Stom i^t &i6tati^ of 
 (pxoftBBOx nriffidm (Qtiffer (J)a;rfon, ©.©., &&.©. 
 
 to f ^e feifirari? of 
 (princefon ^^eofogicaf ^eminarjj 
 
(/^Hx if 
 
POSTHUMOUS WORKS 
 
 REV. JOHN HARRIS, D.D 
 
 EDITED BY THE 
 
 REV. PHILLIP SMITH, B. A., 
 
 LATE COLLEAGUE OF DR. HARRIS IN CHESHUNT COLLEGE, AKD III 
 HEW COLLEGE, LONDON. 
 
PUBLISHED BY 
 
 GOULD AND LINCOLK, 
 
 59 WASniNGTON STKEET 
 
 THE GREAT TEACHER; or, Characteristics of our Lord's Ministry. Witli an Ictro- 
 ductory Essay by Uemaw HuMPUEEy, D. D. 12mo, cloth, rrice 85 cents. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE GREAT COMMISSION; or, the Christian Church constituted and charged to 
 
 convey the Gospel to the worid. A Prize Essay. "With an Introductory Essay by 
 
 "William R. Williams, D. D. 12nio, cloth. Price $1.00. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE PRE-ADAMITE EARTH; Contributions to Theological Science. New and Re- 
 vised edition. 12mo, cloth. Price $1.00. 
 
 IV. 
 
 MAN PRIMEVAL; or, the Constitution and Primitive Condition of the Human Being. 
 With a finely engraved Portrait of the Author. I2mo, cloth, Price $1.25. 
 
 PATRIARCHY; or, The Family, its Constitution and Probation. Contributions to Theo- 
 logical Science. 12mo, cloth. Price $1.25. 
 
 Cv^ The immense sale of Dr. Harris's Works^ both in this country and in Europe, attest 
 their intrinsic worth and great popularity, (11) 
 
SERMONS 
 
 ON 
 
 SPECIAL OCCASIONS 
 
 BT 
 
 REV. JOHN ''HARRIS, D. D., 
 
 late pkesident of new college, london; author of "the gkaet teachee,' 
 
 "the gkeax commission," "pee-adamite eaetu," "man primeval," 
 
 " i'ateiakchy," etc. etc. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 aOULD AND LINCOLN 
 
 59 -W A S H I N G X N STREET. 
 
 NEW YORK: SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & CO. 
 
 CINCINNATI : GEORGE S. BLANCHARD. 
 
 1857. 
 
PRIN'TED BY 
 
 GEORGE C. RAND & AVERY. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 The Discourses contained in this volume are a por- 
 tion of those delivered on various special occasions 
 during the period of their lamented Author's highest 
 reputation as a Preacher. 
 
 No attempt has been made to specify the places 
 and times of their delivery. The subjects treated, 
 and the mode of treating them, raise them above 
 the limits of such associations. Most of them will 
 be recognized, from their own internal evidence, as 
 adapted for Missionary services, or for the openings 
 of places of worship. 
 
 They are arranged in an order v/hich, it is hoped, 
 will exhibit to the reader, in a progressive develop- 
 ment, those great first principles of Divine truth and 
 evangelical Christianity — beginning in the perfec- 
 tions of God, and culminating in the glories of 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Christ — wliicli the Preacher ever made the sole 
 foundation of his appeals for personal consecration 
 and entire devotion to the canse of the Eedeemer. 
 
 Only two points have caused the Editor any serious 
 difficulty. Some passages had been marked, in a 
 slight and temporary manner, for omission, evidently 
 for no other reason than to make the Sermon shorter 
 for delivery. Such passages are generally restored. 
 Other passages were found to have been repeated in 
 different Sermons. These have been removed from 
 one or other of the Discourses in which they occurred, 
 when they were of considerable length, and when 
 they could be spared from the context. But, in a 
 few cases, where the repeated passage seemed an 
 essential part of the whole argument, the Editor has 
 not felt himself justified in mutilating a Sermon to 
 avoid a double presentation of the same thoughts, or 
 even the same words. Such repetitions may well be 
 borne with by the reader. They have been practised 
 by the great orators of all ages ; and much instruc- 
 tion may be derived from their comparison by the 
 reader who washes to form a critical estimate of the 
 Author's work. 
 
 But, doubtless, the great majority of readers will 
 receive these Discourses in far other than a critical 
 spirit. ]\Iany will thankfully recognize, and thought- 
 fully ponder, the truths which they gladly received 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 from the Preaclier s living voice, and will revive the 
 impression of his fleeting words. Others will learn, 
 for the first time, a loart of the source of his repu- 
 tation and usefulness — would that the other elements 
 of fervour and power could be embodied in these 
 pages! May aU share in those emotions of glory to 
 God, of love to the Saviour, and consecration to His 
 cause wliich it was the one aim of the Preacher — 
 as the instrument of God's Holy Spirit — to excite in 
 his hearers' hearts ! 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF GOD UNTO SALVATION. 
 
 EoM. i. 16, 17 — " For I am not ashamed of tlie gospel of Christ : for it is 
 the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth ; to the 
 Jew first, and also to the Grreek. For therein is the righteousness of 
 God revealed from faith to faith : as it is written, The just shall live 
 by faith." ........ 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE DWELLING WITH THE CONTRITE MAN. 
 
 Isaiah Ivii. 15 ; Ixvi. 1, 2 — " For thus saith the high and lofty One that 
 inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy ; I dwell in the high and 
 holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to 
 revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite 
 ones." — "Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is my throne, and the earth 
 is my footstool : where is the house that ye build unto me 1 and where 
 is the place of my rest 1 For all those things hath mine hand made, 
 and all those things have been, saith the Lord : but to this man will 
 I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth 
 at my word." .... .... 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 2 Chron, vi. 18 — " But will God in very deed dwell with men on the 
 earth 1 Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain 
 thee ; how much less this house which I have built ! " . .64 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 god's house the norsE of pkayer for all people. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Isaiah Ivi. 7 — " Mine house sliall be called an Louse of prayer for all 
 
 l^eople." . . . . . . , .80 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 Proverbs riii. 30-36 — " Then I v>'as by him, as one brought up with 
 him : and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him ; re- 
 joicing in the habitable part of his earth ; and my delights were "v\ith 
 the sons of men. Now therefore hearken unto me, ye children ; 
 for blessed are they that keep my ways. Hear instruction, and be 
 wise, and refuse it not. Blessed is the man that heareth me, watch- 
 ing daily at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors. For whoso 
 findeth me findeth life, and shall obtain favour of the Lord. But he 
 that sinneth against me wrongeth his own soul : all they that hate 
 me love death." . . . . . . . 103 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FROM HEAVEN. 
 
 1 Cor. XV. 45-47 — " And so it is written, The first man Adam was 
 made a living soul ; the last Adam was made a quickening spirit. 
 Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but that which is 
 natural ; and afterward that which is spiritual. The first man is of 
 the earth, earthy ; the second man is the Lord from heaven." . 129 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OP GOD. 
 
 Heb. X. 5-7 — " Wherefore, when he cometh into the world, he saith. 
 Sacrifice and offering thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou pre- 
 pared me : In burnt-oiferings and sacrifices for sin thou hast had no 
 pleasure. Then said I, Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is 
 written of me) to do thy will, God." .... 156 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 THE FIELD AND HARVEST OP CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 
 
 John iv. 34-38—'' Jesus saith unto them, IMy meat is to do the wUl of 
 him that sent me, and to finish his work. Say not ye. There are yet 
 four months, and then cometh harvest \ behold, I say unto you. Lift 
 up your eyes, and look on the fields ; for they are white already to 
 harvest. And he that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit 
 unto life eternal ; that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may 
 
CONTENTS. Xi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 rejoice together. And herein is that saying true, One soweth, and 
 another reapeth. I sent you to reap that v/hei-eon ye bestowed no 
 labour : other men laboured, and ye are entered into their labours." 180 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSTAH. 
 
 Luke vii. 19-23 — ''And John calling unto him two of his disciples, sent 
 them to Jesus, saying. Art thou he that should come, or look we for 
 another? When the men were come to him, they said, John Baptist 
 hath sent us unto thee, saying. Art thou he that should come, or look 
 we for another 1 And in the same hour he cured many of their infir- 
 mities and plagues, and of evil spirits ; and unto many that were 
 blind he gave sight. Then Jesus answering said unto them. Go your 
 way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard ; how that 
 the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, 
 the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached. And blessed 
 is he whosoever shall not be offended in me." - . . 211 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 Christ's longing for the completion of his work. 
 
 Luke xii. 50 — " I have a baptism to be baptized with ; and how am I 
 
 straitened till it be accomplished ! " . , , . 235 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 Luke xix. 41, 42 — "And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and 
 wept over it, saying. If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this 
 thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are 
 hid from thine eyes." ....... 260 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 THE REDEEMER CONTEMPLATING HIS HOUR AS COME. 
 
 John xii. 27—*' Now is my soul troubled ; and what shall I say ? Father, 
 save me from this hour : but for this cause came I unto this hour. 
 Father, glorify thy name!" . . .... 276 
 
 SERMON XIIL 
 
 Christ's consecration op his disciples to their work. 
 
 John xvii. 18, 19 — " As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I 
 also sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify my- 
 self, that they also might be sanctified through the truth." , . 296 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 THE UNION OP THE CHURCH FOR THE CONVERSION OP THE WORLD. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 John xni. 20, 21 — "Neithei* p'^y I for these alone, but for them also 
 which shall believe on me through their word ; that they all may be 
 one ; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thed, that they also may 
 be one in us : that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." 314 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 PRAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 Psalm Ixxii. 15 — "And he shall live; and to him shall be given of the 
 gold of Sheba : prayer also shall be made for him continually ; and 
 daily shall he be praised." ...... 341 
 
SEEMON I. 
 
 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF GOD UNTO SALTATION. 
 
 Rom. i. IG, 17 — ^'•For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for ii 
 is the poicer of God unto salvation to every one that helieveth ;'''' —\i 
 is that through wliicli the power of God is manifested in saving every 
 one that believes — " <o the Jew first''— to him it is offered in the first 
 instance—" and also to the Greek''— or Gentile. " For therein is the 
 righteousness of God revealed from faith to faith" — therein is revealed 
 to our faith the doctrine of justification, or acceptance with God — of 
 interest in a Divine rioliteousness, acquired by fliith alone. " As it is 
 tcritten"— in the Old Testament—" the just hy faith shall live." 
 
 Power was a subject welcome and familiar to tlie Roman ; 
 but then it was martial power, the power of conquest and 
 destruction. His city was proudly denominated Strength ; 
 but then it was strength to resist invasion, and to wield the 
 sovereignty of the sword. By its very constitution the 
 Eoman State was nothing else than a well-organized school 
 of -^ar — a permanent establishment for conquest. Hence 
 its prophetic symbol was a beast " whose teeth were of iron^ 
 and his nails of brass;" and of this monster-power it wa? 
 predicted, "it shall devour the whole earth, and shall trear 
 it down, and break it in pieces." 
 
 Here, however, the apostle speaks of the advent of a dif 
 ferent kind of power — of a comparatively new thing in th; 
 earth — a benevolent power — a power, not to destroy, but tc 
 save — " the power of God unto salvation." And, what must 
 have appeared equally novel — the apostle describes the in- 
 strument of this saving power as consisting simj^ly in e 
 
 A 
 
2 THE COSPEL THE PO\YER OF 
 
 truth or iirinciple to be believed. For the doctrine of the 
 text is this, that the salvation of men can be effected by the 
 Gospel alone — and that the saving power of the Gospel lies 
 in the Cross — in the doctrine of justification by faith in a 
 crucified Redeemer. 
 
 Now, we shall probably illustrate this idea by .shewing, 
 that of all powerful things, thouglits, opinions, or doctrines 
 — things to be believed and acted on — are the most power- 
 ful : — that of all opinions or doctrines, those partaking of a 
 moral or spiritual nature are the most powerful : — that of 
 all such doctrines, Christian doctrine, or the Gospel, is the 
 most powerful: — that of all the doctrines of the Gospel, the 
 mightiest is the doctrine of justification hy faith in Christ : 
 — and that the persuasion of this fact should induce us cor- 
 dially to embrace it, and earnestly to promote its diffusion 
 among others. 
 
 I. 
 
 First, then, we have to shew that of all pov/erftd things, 
 ideas or doctrines — things to be believed and acted on — are 
 the most powerful. This is not the genera.1 opinion of power. 
 In our ordinary notions of power, Ave are apt to associate 
 with it ideas of brute force — of large masses of men or of 
 matter bearing doAvn all before them by mere physical 
 might. . The explosion of a globe like our own, for instance, 
 could we witness such an event, would give us a sublime 
 idea of the power which effected it. But the man of intelli- 
 gent reflection is av/are, that the power which prevents such 
 an explosion is mightier still. Power is calm, regular, and 
 majestic in its movements. It can afford to be so. It does 
 not need to be noisy, anxious, hasty. These are signs of 
 weakness. Power speaks, and it is done — commands, and 
 it stands fast for ever. The utter breaking up and destruc- 
 tion of the material universe would be nothing, as a display 
 of i)0wer, compared with the might of that influence by which 
 the great system is at this moment noiselessly ui^held, and 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 3 
 
 eacli of its iinuiimberecl worlds kept in its miglity patliway 
 tliroiigli boundless space. 
 
 On the same principle, all the great changes of society are 
 produced — not by laws, kings, or armies, as is generally sup- 
 posed, and as popular history would have it believed : — they 
 are produced by the operation of a power stronger than all 
 these — a jpower which no fires can burn, no armies destroy — 
 but which is able itself to extinguish the one and to annihi- 
 late the other — the power of thought, of opinions, and prin- 
 ciples. These are the true sovereigns of the world — the 
 empire of the world has, in a sense, been given to them; 
 and all other forms of power are only their creatures. The 
 strongest law is only a certain idea taking the form of a rule, 
 and enforcing itself by sanctions ; and the most powerful 
 army that ever devastated the earth was only a thought or 
 principle embodied, armed, and bent on triumphing by vio- 
 lence. And as opinions and principles are the most mighty, 
 so are they the most enduring things. What will eventually 
 l^e known of the last great conqueror who quitted the earth. 
 Napoleon, but that he enacted a code of laws ? Time has 
 already proved, as he himself jDroudly foretold, that his laws 
 w^ould be remembered when his victories were foro^otten. 
 What do we now know, or possess, of most of the great 
 nations of antiquity, but some of their thoughts ? These, 
 transmitted in books, are living, and are moving society still. 
 Alexander, indeed, astounded and conquered the world, and 
 his name fills a vast space in its subsequent history. But 
 while the earth was resounding with his exploits, Aristotle, 
 his tutor, was silently achieving the mightier conquest of the 
 human mind. The Macedonian empire was soon dismem- 
 bered and extinct ; but the mental empire of the philosopher 
 continued vigorous and entire for more than tv/o thousand 
 years, and is far from being destroyed yet. 
 
 II. 
 
 But, secondly, of all the thoughts or jDrincij^les w^hich agi- 
 
4 THE GOSPEL THE TOWER OF 
 
 tate and revolutionize society, the miglitiest are those which 
 partake of a moral or spiritual nature. They are then based 
 on all that is most profound and central in human nature, 
 and draw to themselves the whole depth and mass of our 
 being. 
 
 A spiritual truth is greater than a throne, and subverts 
 thrones. It has a throne of its o^^ai in the spirit and souls 
 of men. " There is no power on earth" — said one of the 
 greatest of men — " that setteth up a throne or chair of state 
 in the spirits or souls of men, but this only." It has then a 
 throne of its own — God Himself deigns to sit in it, and to 
 suspend His sceptre over it. From that lofty and guarded 
 ocat, where none can return the blow, truth strikes and assails 
 as from heaven. And as it enlists in its cause the spiritual 
 and unwearied part of humanity — that part of our nature 
 which cannot be fatigued — it needs no pause, allows no truce, 
 entails its quarrel from generation to generation. Better 
 for its foes to encounter an army than a truth ; that they 
 might annihilate, but this is immortal — this gathers strength 
 from conflict, authority from suffering, final victory from 
 present defeat. Hence the fierce, the unforgiving, the un- 
 dying hatred they have poured out on the person, the ashes, 
 the memory of its champions — especially of its first cham- 
 pions — not merely killing them piecemeal, but hunting for 
 their bones years after to reduce them to ashes, and blacken- 
 ing their memory with the most concentrated venom of 
 infernal malice. 
 
 But what to Truth was this ? At the stake she becomes 
 an oracle — gives to her mart}Ts joys stronger than fire — and 
 speaks to tlie sympathies of the multitude in tones of autho- 
 rity which drown the logic of the schools. At the moment 
 of her supposed defeat — like her Lord, " the Truth" — she is 
 in the sepulchre putting on her panoply for tlie final fight. 
 The car of persecution rolls on, fimcying that she is dead — • 
 when, lo, at the moment she was supposed to be festering in 
 her shroud, she speaks to it from heaven, out of the midst 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 5 
 
 of a light brighter "than that of the midday sun — arrests its 
 progress, disarms its warriors, and enlists them as chamj^ions 
 in her own service. 
 
 A oiorious tbino' is a great spiritual truth — and an event- 
 ful moment is that in which it makes its advent among a 
 l^eople ; and mighty is he to whom it first comes, or hy whom 
 it first speaks to them — mightier, not than ten men merely 
 that have it not, or than ten thousand; but than all men that 
 have it not. Such a man was Luther ; he uttered a truth — 
 a simple truth — and the Papal throne has never since ceased 
 to tremble with the vibration. Such a man v^as Huss. And 
 such a man, more pre-eminent than all, was our own Wick- 
 liffe, whose opinions still gather strength, and go on smiting 
 and shivering to pieces more than one image of iron and 
 brass. And such a man is the Christian minister or mission- 
 ary who first takes the Gospel into a heathen land. He who 
 first brought the Gospel to Britain did more than Csesar ; the 
 Roman power soon passed away from amongst us : but the 
 power of the Truth remains ; and ~ our history ever since it 
 came has in fact been nothing but the history of that truth, 
 struggling for its right place and jDower among us. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now, this reminds us, thirdly, that, of all moral or spiritual 
 truth, Christian truth is the most powerful. Examine its 
 history, and you will find that even wliere Christianity has, 
 for obvious reasons, produced but slender spiritual results, 
 the inferior benefits which it has scattered have rendered its 
 progress through the nations as traceable as the overflowing 
 of the Nile is by the rich deposit and the consequent fertility 
 which it leaves behind. This is a v/ell-known subject of de- 
 vout exultation in many of the inspired ej^istles. The apologies 
 of the fathers prove it, and the records of profane history 
 imintentionally but abundantly confirm it. Virtue went out 
 of it in every age, and wherever it came. The Roman emj^ire 
 was rushing to ruin; Christianity arrested its descent, and 
 
C THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 broke its fall. Nearly all the tribes of Europe were sitting 
 at a feast on human flesh, or immolating human victims to 
 their gods. It called them away from the horrid repast, and 
 extinguished their unholy fires. The northern invasion poured 
 a new world of barbarism over Christian lands. The spirit 
 of Christianity brooded over the chaotic mass, and gradually 
 gave to it the forms of civilized life. Where it could not 
 sheathe the sword of war, it at least humanized the dreadful 
 art. It found the servant a slave, and broke his chains. It 
 found the poor — the mass of mankind — trampled under foot, 
 and it tauo^ht them to stand erect by addressino: whatever is 
 divine in their degraded nature. It found woman — one-half 
 of the species — in the dust, and it extended its protecting 
 arm to her weakness, and raised and placed her by the side 
 of man. Sickly infancy and infirm old age were cast out to 
 perish; it passed by and bade them live, preparing for each 
 a home, and becoming the tender nurse of both. Yes, 
 Christianity found the heathen world without a single house 
 of mercy. Go, search the Byzantine chronicles and the pages 
 of Publius Victor, and though the one describes all the public 
 edifices of ancient Constantinople, and the other of ancient 
 Eome, not a word is to be found in either of a purely chari- 
 table institution. Go, search the ancient marbles in your 
 museums, cpiestion the many travellers who have visited the 
 ruined cities of Greece and Eome, and descend and ransack 
 the graves of Herculaneum and Pompeii, and say, if, amidst 
 all the splendid remains of statues and amphitheatres — temples, 
 afpieducts, and palaces — mausoleums, columns, and triumphal 
 arche.s — a single fragment or inscription has been found tell- 
 ing us that it belonged to a refuge for human want, or for 
 the alleviation of human misery. The first voluntary and 
 public collection ever known to have been made in the heathen 
 world for a charitable ol)ject was made by the churches of 
 IMaccdonia for the poor saints in Jerusalem. The first indi- 
 vidual who built an hosjjital for the poor was a Christian 
 widow. Go, search the lexicons for interpreting the ancient 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 7 
 
 Greek authors, and yoii will not find even the names which 
 divine Christianity wanted by which to designate her houses 
 of charity: she had to invent them. Language had never 
 been called on to embody such conceptions of mercy. All 
 the asylums of the earth belong to her. 
 
 And be it remembered that Christianity has accomiDlished 
 much of this under circumstances the most unfriendly to 
 success. As yet it has had but a very limited influence, even 
 in what are denominated Christian countries. But yet, 
 while bleeding herself at a thousand pores, she has saved 
 whole tribes from extermination, and comparatively stanched 
 the flow of human blood. Though a prisoner herself, and 
 walking in chains, she has yet gone through the nations, pro- 
 claiming liberty to the captive, and the opening of the prison 
 to them that are bound. Even when Popery had converted 
 her creed into a libel on her name, that creed yet contained 
 truths which eclipsed the wisdom of Greece, and which con- 
 signed the mythology of Rome to the amusement and ridicule 
 of childhood. Even there, where her character was most mis- 
 understood, so high had she raised the standard of morals, 
 that Socrates, the boast of Greece, would have been deemed 
 impure, and Titus, the darling of Eome and of mankind, 
 would have been denounced as a monster of cruelty. When 
 disfio;ured to a de^Tce which would have made it difiicult for 
 her great apostle to have recognised her, yet, like him, she 
 went about "as poor, yet making many rich; as having 
 nothing, and yet possessing all things." Herself the victim 
 of universal selfishness, she yet left on every shore which she 
 visited everlasting monuments that she had been there, in the 
 hospitals and edifices of charity which lifted up their heads, 
 and in the softe-ning and healing influences which stole over 
 the heart of society. 
 
 2. But why do we speak of other lands? Britain itself owes 
 everything, under God, to the influence of the Gospel. The 
 cruelties of Rome did not humanize, nor the northern super- 
 stitions enlighten us. The missionary who first trod our 
 
8 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 shores found himself stanclmg in the very temj^le of Drnidism; 
 and wherever he turned, he heard the din of its noisy festi- 
 vals, saw the obscenity of its lascivious rites, and beheld its 
 animal and human victims. But Christianity had marked 
 the island for its own. And although its lofty purposes are 
 yet far from being worked out on us, from that eventful mo- 
 nient to the present the various parts of our social system 
 have been risino- too-ether. Even when most at rest, its 
 influence has been silently penetrating the heart of society. 
 When most enfeebled and corrupted itself, its morality has 
 been checking the progress of our social corruption, rendering 
 power more protective and law more righteous. ^Yhen most 
 disguised and repressed, its wisdom has been modifying our 
 philosophy and teaching a loftier system of its ovni. A Howard, 
 sounding and circumnavigating the ocean of human misery, 
 is only an obedient agent of its philanthropy. A Clarkson 
 and a Wilberforce have only given utterance to its tender and 
 righteous appeals for the slave. A Raikes, a Bell, and a Lan- 
 caster have simply remembered its long-neglected injunction, 
 " Suffer little children to come unto me;'' while all its Sab- 
 baths, Bibles, and direct evangelical ministrations are only 
 the appropriate instrumentality by which it has ever been 
 seeking to become the power of God to our salvation, and 
 preparing us for the office to which Providence is now dis- 
 tinctly calling us — to be the Christian ministers and mission- 
 aries of mankind. 
 
 3. But why speak we of what the Gospel has done? At this 
 moment it is doing for other lands what it has done for us. 
 Rej)air to the distant missionary held, and we can j^oint out to 
 you happy homes and peaceful villages rising amidst wastes 
 where lately man roamed, restless and ferocious as the beasts 
 with which he contended for supremacy ; to multitudes, whose 
 hands were but yesterday red with the blood of their fellows, 
 now diligently busied in the arts of civilized life; to thousands 
 of children and adults, trooping to their respective schools, 
 where, a short time ago, all the visible signs of a language 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 9 
 
 were utterly unknown ; to organized societies and tlie reign 
 of law, where, but recently, to be lawless was reckoned essen- 
 tial to enjoyment, and to kill at pleasure the highest prero- 
 gative; to sober, honest, highly moralized countries, where 
 lately rage and intemperance revelled at will ; to tribes 
 which, till lately, never met but for mutual destruction, but 
 whose intercourse now consists entirely in the reciprocation of 
 benefits and tokens of love; to the animalized savaare actinof 
 the man ; to the debased slave now walking at large as an 
 heir of freedom; to degraded woman raised from the dust 
 and restored to be the partner of man; to hundreds of 
 thousands rescued from the curse of the darkest idolatry, 
 brought into the light of truth, and surrounded with the 
 means of social improvement and unending happiness ! What 
 vast tracts has it rescued from barbarism, and with what 
 creations of benevolence has it clothed them! How many 
 thousands, whom ignorance and selfishness had branded as 
 the leavings and refuse of the S2:>ecies, if not actually akin to 
 the beasts that perish, are at this moment rising under its 
 fostering care, ascribing their enfranchisement, under God, to 
 its benign interj^osition, taking encouragement from its 
 smiles to assume the port and bearing of men, and by their 
 acts and aspirations retrieving the character and dignity of 
 the slandered human form ! When did literature accomplish 
 so much for nations destitute of a written language? or 
 education pierce and light \v^ so large and dense a mass of 
 human ignorance? When did liumanity save so many lives, 
 or cause so many sanguinary ''wars to cease''? How many 
 a sorrow has it soothed — how many an injury arrested — and 
 how many an asylum has it reared, amidst scenes of wretch- 
 edness and oppression, for the orphan, the outcast, and the 
 sufferer ! When did liberty ever rejoice in a greater triumph 
 than that which Christian instrumentality has been the 
 means of achieving? or civilization find so many sons of the 
 wilderness learning her arts, and agriculture, and commerce? 
 or laiu receive so much voluntary homage from those who 
 
10 THE GOSPEL THE POWEE OF 
 
 but j^csterday were strangers to the name? By erecting a 
 standard of morality, how vast the amount of crime which it 
 has been the means of preventing ! By asserting the claims 
 of degraded woman, how j^owerfid an instrument of social 
 regeneration is it preparing for the future ! And by doing all 
 this by the j^rincij^le and power of all moral order and excel- 
 lence — the Gospel of Christ — how large a portion of the 
 world's chaos has that instrumentality restored to light, and 
 harmony, and j^eace ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 But all this, you will say, only proves that the Gospel is 
 the power of God to the civilization — to the social improve- 
 ment — to the temporal salvation of man, whereas the text 
 contemplates the salvation of the soul. We admit it. And 
 what, we ask — what must the fruit of that tree be, the very 
 leaves of which are so elBcacious for the healing of the 
 nations ? What must be the full migJit of that benevolent 
 principle, of which all this is only, in a sense, the accidental 
 effect ? And what must be the nature of that doctrine, the 
 result of which when truly believed throws all these temporal 
 results into the shade ? Now, this reminds us, fourthly, that 
 of all the truths to be found in the Gospel, the doctrine of the 
 Cross — or of justification by faith in the atoning sacrifice of 
 Christ — is the mightiest. As we have just seen, its benevolent 
 morality may be mighty — may check unnumbered evils, un- 
 veil the deformity of vice, restore the lost influence of shame, 
 and thus gradually diminish crime, and raise the moral tone 
 of society. But man wants more than this. He may be 
 moralized, without being converted; and he needs conver- 
 sion — salvation. The text both implies this, and provides 
 for it. For, in saying that " the Gospel is the power of God 
 unto salvation," what is it but implying that there is an 
 antagonist power at work in the world — the power of Satan 
 to destruction ? reminding us of the terrible might of that 
 power, since nothing less than the power of God is regarded 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. H 
 
 as a matcli for it. So that if the Gospel be so potent as to 
 deserve to be called nothing less than tlie 2^0 wer of God to 
 salvation, it is just because sin is so mighty as the power of 
 Satan to destruction. 
 
 And here be it carefully remarked that the doctrine of 
 the Cross triumphs, not in the same way as other kinds of 
 truth produce their results — by its mere fitness to convince 
 the judgment, and approve itself to the mind. AVe believe, 
 indeed, that the Gospel has this fitness — that light is not 
 more suited to the eye than the entire system of evangelical 
 truth is exquisitely adapted to the original principles of 
 human nature ; and we believe that, owing to this inherent 
 adaptation alone, the Gospel can produce the mightiest moral 
 results — all that temporal and social improvement of which 
 we have been speaking — without the aid of any special super- 
 natural influence ; and w^e believe that because of this inherent 
 adaptation it is that God employs it to produce the great 
 spiritual result of salvation. But then, we believe that, in 
 the production of this result, its mere adajDtation alone w^ould 
 leave it quite impotent ; that here it encounters a kind and a 
 degree of resistance which renders a Divine agency indispen- 
 sable ; that here the influence of the Sj^irit comes into oj^era- 
 tion ; and that on this account it is called the power of God, 
 because God alone renders it j)owerful to salvation. 
 
 But before we j^i^oceed to shew that the Gospel is thus 
 mighty, the text suggests two or three j^revious inquiries: — 
 
 1. What is the secret of its saving influence? In other 
 words, what is that adaptation by which it operates in the 
 hand of the S23irit on the mind of the sinner, so as to restore 
 him to holiness ? The apostle replies by saying, that " therein 
 is the doctrine of justification by faith revealed to faith.'' 
 
 Now, in attempting to shew how this doctrine j^roduces 
 this result, it is somewhat disheartening to reflect that we 
 are speaking to those to whom the subject has necessarily 
 become comparatively trite, and every mode of j)resenting it 
 perfectly familiar. The very facility with which the under- 
 
1 2 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OP 
 
 standing aj^preliencls our meaning, and the readiness with 
 which the judgment admits it, allows no time for the 
 sublime truth to settle do^vn upon the heart. In order, 
 therefore, to do anything like justice to the subject, it is 
 necessary that the individual supposed to be subjected to the 
 influence in question should be taken, not from among our- 
 selves, but from a region where the power, and even the 
 name of the Gospel is unknown. Christianity is the only 
 successful antagonist which sin has ever encountered. In 
 order, therefore, to exliibit its influence fully, . he should be 
 taken from the darkness and distance of nature, where sin 
 had operated on him unchecked, working out all its deadly 
 eff'ects, and reducing him to its dreadful purposes ; and he 
 should be brought with all his depravity and guilt upon him 
 into the full light and under the direct power of the 
 Gospel. 
 
 Now, in this state he is chiefly assailable at three points. 
 Entrenched and fortified in evil as he may appear to be, 
 there are yet three sides, so to speak, on which ho may be 
 approached with irresistible eff"ect, — his immortality, his 
 guilt, and his infinite danger. These are subjects relating 
 to parts and principles of his nature which an unthinking 
 world overlooks, — it has little or nothing by which it could 
 appeal to them if it would, — and yet they lie at the very 
 foundation of his constitution. So that whoever shall suc- 
 ceed in making him sensible of his immortality, in alarm- 
 ing his conscience to the danger to which all that immortality 
 is exposed by sin, and then in delivering him from the 
 whole, will necessarily acquire a master influence over his 
 whole nature for ever. Now, the Gospel does this. It does 
 not afl'ect a part of his nature merely. It does not operate 
 superficially on the senses ; nor convince his judgment, and 
 leave his heart uninterested ; nor move his passions merely, 
 to the neglect of his judgment and his will. It goes in and 
 down to the depths of his nature. It goes directly to move 
 that which moves the whole man. 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 13 
 
 The world hides a man from himself, — conceals from him 
 the most important part of his nature. By shutting out the 
 prospect of eternity, he loses sight of his immortality ; and 
 by constantly appealing to his senses, and thus keeping in 
 exercise only the inferior part of his nature, he tends to settle 
 down into a mere creature of time. But the first effect, 
 perhaps, which the Gospel produces is to reveal him to him- 
 self By coming to him as a message from another world, 
 he starts into a consciousness of his relation to that world ; 
 and by addressing itself to the spiritual part of his nature, 
 he becomes sensible, however vaguely at first, that he is in 
 some way related to the spiritual, the infinite, and the eter- 
 nal. Now, it is obvious how this very first impression, by 
 throwing open, if I may so say, a part of the temple of his 
 nature, which had been hitherto shut up — the very sanctuary 
 containing the symbol of Divinity — prepares him to receive 
 with deep effect every other communication which may come 
 to him from the same quarter. 
 
 Not only does the world conceal from a man his spiritual 
 and immortal nature, by allowing it to fall into disuse, — it 
 tends, also, to merge the fact of his individual accountable- 
 ness — his distinct personal responsibility. From living in 
 society, and finding his interests and relations inseparably 
 complicated with those of others, he comes to think of him- 
 self only as an undistinguishable part of a great whole. 
 He loses himself in the crowd. But the Gospel indi- 
 vidualizes and detaches. It tells him of a law by which all 
 the laws of society are themselves to be judged, but of 
 which his life has been an unceasing violation — of a hook in 
 which his personal history is recorded moment by moment 
 — of a Being who can disentangle and detach him from all 
 his complicated relations, and assign to his every thought 
 and word its precise character — and of a place and a 
 punishment so exactly and necessarily resulting from his 
 guilt, and proportioned to it, that he is the only being in the 
 universe to whom they could be assigned. The only way, 
 
14j the gospel the powee of 
 
 therefore, in wliieli it can treat with liim is in person. It lays 
 its awakening and arresting hand on his personal conscience. 
 It demands a personal interview — a conference in the centre 
 of his natnre. It brings forward his guilt into the strong 
 light of distinct consciousness. Even if the Gospel allowed 
 him to act by another, his own conscience is nov/ too deeply 
 interested to permit it. All his faculties and powers seem 
 collected into a point — the entire soul becomes conscience ; 
 and all that conscience is against Lim — accuser, witness, and 
 judge. As if the judgment had been set, and the books 
 opened ; as if his j^ersonal case were already adjudged, his 
 doom pronounced, and he himself suspended over the bottom- 
 less gulf — he feels that he is lost. His nature is now stirred 
 to its depths, and his soul is one region of alarm. Mere 
 sympathy now will receive his deep, deep gratitude — deliver- 
 ance would secure his heart for ever. The being who shall 
 now arrive to his rescue will infallibly acquire an influence 
 over the whole man, and may calculate on his allegiance for 
 ever. 
 
 To ask if the world, or any person or j^ower belonging to 
 it, can extend the aid wliich the crisis demands, would be 
 sheer impertinence. That is the very power which has 
 brought on the crisis, and from which he rec[uires to be 
 rescued. So completely is he now detached from it in heart 
 and hope, that he turns round, and looks back on it, with 
 wonder at its infatuation, aversion for its sins, and yearning 
 pity for its state. The cloud which threatens him with 
 its bolt impends also over it. What must he do to be 
 saved ? 
 
 In the absence of all the objects he has been accustomed 
 to confide in — in the clear and oj^en space which their witli- 
 drawment has left around him, behold the Cross ! All the 
 forms of terror and ministers of justice which his sins had 
 armed against him, blend and melt into a form of love dying 
 for his rescue ! The Crois has received the lii^htnino's of the 
 impending cloud, and has painted upon it the bow of hope. 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 15 
 
 To his anxious inquiry, what he must do to be saved — the 
 Cross echoes back, Be saved ; and every object around him 
 joyfully repeats, saved ! Then God is love, and the Cross 
 is the stupendous expedient by which He harmonizes that 
 love with the rectitude of His government ! Then the sinner 
 need not perish — and the Cross is the amazing means of his 
 salvation. Had it ever been his lot to gaze on the appalling 
 spectacle of an ordinary crucifixion, the sight would pro- 
 bably have left an image on his mind never to be effaced. Is 
 it possible, then, that he can behold " Jesus Christ, evidently 
 set forth crucified before his eyes" — that he can know the 
 dignity of the sufferer, as God manifest in the flesh — can be- 
 lieve that He hates the sin as deeply as He loves the sinner- 
 can reflect that the effect of His death is to be his own de- 
 liverance — and can look into the heart of this great mystery 
 and find it to be love, without experiencing a change ? If 
 every word which he hears spoken, even by a fellow-man, 
 leaves some impression on his mind, can he hear that he is 
 saved, and believe that the voice which assures him of salva- 
 tion is the voice of Gcd, without feelino- it thrill throuoh 
 
 ' O CD 
 
 every faculty of his soul ? If every object and event he may 
 witness produces some effect on his character, is it possible 
 that the event which is to affect his whole being for ever — 
 v/hich, for him, shuts for ever the gate of hell, and throws 
 open and fills with visions of glory the ample spaces of eter- 
 nity — should produce only a transient and slender impression? 
 Must he not, by necessity of nature, love Him, without whom 
 he would soon have had nothing in the universe to love — but 
 have been eternally hateful, even to himself? Must he not 
 render obedience to Him, without whom the chains of his 
 slavery would soon have been riveted for ever ? He waits 
 not for a rej^ly — he needs not a command. He is under the 
 mastery of a principle which is its ov/n law — a principle of 
 boundless gratitude and love. The power of the Cross has 
 moved the primary forces of his nature — the springs of hope 
 and fear, of adoration and love. The world has lost him. 
 
16 THE COSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 His heart is at the feet of Christ. He dates life and happiness 
 from the transition. Henceforth he moves in a region of 
 which the Cross is the central object, and where the benig- 
 nant and attractive influences which stream from it in all 
 directions hold him in willino- and deliohted alleo-iance. 
 
 o o o 
 
 Here, then, is the secret of that supreme influence which 
 the Gospel exercises over the man whom the world had de- 
 based, and sin had ruined ; and this, if I may say so, is the 
 line of truth along which the Spirit of God delights to operate. 
 By acquainting him with his immortality, it in effect gives 
 him a soul, and gives it on the threshold of a new, an eternal 
 world. By acquainting him with his responsibility and guilt, 
 it calls his conscience from the dead. And then, by unveil- 
 ing to him the mystery of the Cross, by w^hich that guilt is 
 cancelled, and that immortality entitled to heaven, one over- 
 powering sentiment subjects his whole nature to the autho- 
 rity of Christ. 
 
 2. Now, this representation of the manner in which the 
 Gospel becomes the power of God unto salvation, answers, 
 in effect, another question suggested by the text — To tuhom 
 does it j9?'oye thus divinely efficacious ? — "To every one that 
 believeth.'' — But is there not a feeling in the heart of the 
 unrenewed sinner wdiich often revolts at this arrangement — a 
 feeling of displeasure, as if faith might have been dispensed 
 with — as if it were an unnecessary requirement, made only 
 in the exercise of an arbitrary authority — as if salvation 
 w^ould have been quite possible, and much easier and better, 
 without it — and a feeling which, if put into words, would 
 amount to this, It is very hard that we cannot be saved with- 
 out tJiis believing, this faith '^. 
 
 A feeling, indeed, very much akin to this, though much 
 less virulent and violent, wall be found existing in the human 
 heart against every arrangement of Providence in wdiich an 
 exercise of thought and will is required. " It is very hard,'" 
 says the human heart, " that we cannot be rich without in- 
 dustry" — and hence the origin of alchemy and gambling. 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 17 
 
 " It is very hard that we cannot purchase foresight without 
 exjDerience, knowledge, and reflection'' — and hence arose 
 astrology, and all the pretended methods of foretelling the 
 future. " And it is very hard that we cannot be happy here- 
 after without faith and holiness here" — hence idolatry, super- 
 stition, popery, penances, and the substitution of all kinds of 
 ceremonies in religion. But in opposition to all these, the 
 Gospel holds on its way through the world, demanding faith — 
 and replying to the important inquiry, " Who will be 
 saved V — " Every one that believeth.''' 
 
 And why so? Not that there is any special efficacy in 
 faith itself, considered as an exercise of the mind ; but because 
 it is the organ of reception — the first and simple means of 
 contact between the mind and the truth or error brought 
 before it. I say tJie truth or error; for belief is as necessary 
 to the efficacious reception of the one as of the other. Yes, 
 faith is as indispensably necessary to destruction as it is to 
 salvation — faith in falsehood, in the ivorld, in Satan. Only, 
 alas ! such faith is congenial to our fallen nature ; while faith, 
 the faith of the Gospel, requires implantation by a hand from 
 heaven. Still it is true, that without faith or belief there 
 would have been no destruction. When Satan brought the 
 first lie into the world, he might have said, " He that believes 
 it shall be condemned" — the great question was, whether 
 man would believe Satan in preference to God. He did so, 
 and fell. The consequence is, that everything since has 
 been viewe(f by man through a false medium, so that the 
 whole system of things may be now said to be one great 
 complicated falsehood, and man believes it and is lost. The 
 Gospel, therefore, now comes into the world as the truth of 
 God — a world in which it is the only system of spiritual 
 truth to be found — in which it stands up alone, Kke Elijah on 
 Carmel, the only witness for God in a great tem23le of false- 
 hood; and the great question now is, whether man will be- 
 lieve God in preference to Satan. When Satan came, he 
 found man believing God; and he saw that unless he could 
 
18 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 induce us to transfer our faith to him, for us there would be, 
 in effect, no Msehood to deceive, no tempter to destroy, no 
 interrui^tion to our paradise, — that everything depended on 
 our believing him. But no^v, when the Gospel comes, it finds 
 man a firm believer in the god of this world ; and it sees that 
 unless we can be induced to transfer our faith back to God, 
 for us, in effect, there will be no Gospel, no truth to sanctify 
 and save, no interruption to our misery and guilt, — that 
 everything depends on our believing it. To complain, then, 
 of the hardship of requiring faith in order to salvation is to 
 betray the greatest ignorance or enmity, or both. Indeed, 
 the man who utters it is at the very moment a believer, a 
 firm believer in Satan ; and this it is which accounts for the 
 complaint. Satan hath said to him, " Hath God said, In the 
 day thou believest the Gospel thou shalt be saved? It is an 
 unnecessary requirement; He could and ought to save you 
 without; and you shall be saved without.''' And the man 
 believes it — believes the ftither of lies in preference to the God 
 of truth, and vents his complaint accordingly. His feeling, 
 therefore, if uttered in full, would amount to this : — " It is 
 very hard that I cannot have all the benefit of believing the 
 truth while I am living in the belief of lies. When the 
 Almighty knows that I am believing Satan, it is very hard 
 that He should ask me to believe Himself in preference. 
 Surely He might take me to heaven without disturbing my 
 progress towards hell.'' But no; in opposition to all such 
 delusions, contradictions, and enmity of heart, the language 
 of Christ wisely, graciously, necessarily is, " He that helieveth 
 shall be saved — the Gospel is the means of salvation to every 
 one that helieueth." 
 
 3. And this will furnish the right reply to another inquiry, 
 "Why is it that the Gospel has not universally triumphed?" 
 Simply because it has not been universally believed. It did 
 not engage that every one should believe, but only that every 
 one that does believe shall be saved. 
 
 ■i, The great question is, then — Has it proved the power 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 19 
 
 of God unto salvation to every one that helieveth? Had the 
 primitive Christians been perplexed with doubts of its power 
 to save, how eminently fitted was the conversion of Paul to 
 remove them! After him, of whom could they doubt? He 
 himself regarded the question of the Divine sufficiency of the 
 Gospel as settled by his own conversion — settled for ever. 
 But the evidence of its saving power has gone on increasing 
 with each successive age. Ask a Luther what doctrine it was 
 which shook the Papal throne, and he will tell you that it was 
 that grand test of a standing or falling church — justification 
 by faith alone. Ask Jonathan Edwards to what he could 
 trace that revival in his church which has since been followed 
 by so many similar Pentecostal scenes, and he will tell you 
 that it immediately followed his dhcoiivses on justification by 
 faith alone. Ask the Christian missionary by what mighty 
 power he triumphs, and a Brainerd replies — " It was v»dien I 
 discoursed to the multitude on that sacred j^^ssage, ' Yet it 
 pleased the Lord to bruise him,' that the word was attended 
 with a resistless power; many hundreds in that great assem- 
 bly, consisting of three or four thousand, were so much 
 affected, that there was a very great mourning, like to Jhe 
 mourning of Hadadrimmon. 'How was that?' said one of 
 the affected Greenlanders wlien, after the rationalising pro- 
 cess had long been tried on them in vain, the history of our 
 Lord's sufferino;s was at lenoth read to them — ' How was 
 that? Tell me that once more, for I would fain be saved 
 too.' " 
 
 In the history of its progress we recognize almost every 
 disjDlay of gracious power of which the mind can conceive. 
 Even in our own day, it has melted the inflexible Indian into 
 penitence and tears, and has enabled the shrinking Hindu to 
 brave the loss of caste and the martyr's pangs. 
 
 What other evidence of its power can be necessary? Under 
 its subduino- and harmonizino- influence, the coiivert from the 
 frozen zone has been hailed as a brother in Christ by the 
 Christian Indian in his native wilderness; and the once 
 
20 THE GOSPEL THE POY/ER OF 
 
 savage warrior of America has sent letters of peace and love 
 to the fisherman of Greenland. At its sonnd, the barbarian 
 veteran of a hundred battles and of a hundred years has 
 become a little child ; and a host of warriors, each of v/hom 
 would once have preferred death to a tear, have dissolved into 
 penitence. 
 
 What other evidence can be necessary? Instruments which 
 had never been used but for v/ar and murder, it has converted 
 to useful and even sacred purjDoses; and tribes which had 
 never met but in deadly conflict, it assembles together around 
 the table of the Lord. It has declined no contest through 
 fear of defeat ; and wherever it has gone, it has erected monu- 
 ments of its saving power. 
 
 What other evidence can be necessary ? Among its con- 
 verts are men whose depravity would compare with that of a 
 Jeroboam, a Manasseh, or a Saul of Tarsus. Name the most 
 vile and degraded of the species ; and pointing to its con- 
 verts the Gospel can say, " Such were some of you ; but ye 
 are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the 
 name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God ! '' Oh, 
 what must be that darkness which is only comparable to 
 the shadow of death ? Then, what must that jDOwer be which 
 can pierce a continent of such darkness, and make it light in 
 the Lord ? And yet the Gospel does this. Oh, what must be 
 that restless anguish of soul which can impel men to imder- 
 take long and wasting 2)ilgrimages, and voluntarily to lacerate 
 their flesh, and inflict agonies of self-torture ? Then, what 
 must that gracious power be which can say to this tempest 
 of the soul, " Peace, be still,'' and there is a great calm ? 
 And yet the Gospel does this. What must that sense of 
 guilt be which can burst the sacred bonds of humanity, and 
 ofl'er a brother man in sacrifice ; or which can even suppress 
 the still more sacred feelings of the mother, and induce her 
 to immolate her infant child ? Then, what must that gracious 
 power be which can pluck out that sting of conscious guilt, 
 and bid her go in peace ? And yet the Gospel does this ; for 
 
GOD UXTO SALVATION. 21 
 
 it proclaims, " The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth 
 from all sin/' 
 
 What other evidence of its saving power is necessary ? To 
 say that it is the only power which does save, is saying but 
 little. Every other moral power destroys. In its remedial 
 and saving influence, the Gospel stands alone in the world. 
 Everything is against it ; and yet at this very moment it is 
 saving — saving myriads. It is in the family, cheering ten 
 thousand happy homes. It is in the closet, bidding the 
 Christian ask and receive, that his joy may be full. It is 
 with the little child, opening its infant lips in praise ; and 
 with the proud man, making him a little child. It is present 
 with the slave, reconciling him to the degTadation of colour — 
 inspiring him with charity towards those who have dealt out 
 to him nothing but insult and wrong — breathing over his 
 passions the calm of resignation — and teaching his spirit, 
 spurned from every other resting place, to rest in God and 
 to wait for His salvation. It is bending over the. suffering, 
 and binding up their broken hearts. And it is present in 
 the sick-room by the bed of the departing saint, raising his 
 mind superior to bodily suffering, and, while the dew of death 
 is on his brow, keeping that brow calm and serene. 
 
 But, oh, its bright and ultimate results are too great for 
 earth — they must be sought for in heaven. Do you ask, then, 
 for greater evidence of its saving power still ? Then must 
 you stand where John stood, and command a view of the 
 blessed above. But where is the line by which you can 
 fathom the depth of the pit from which it has saved them ? 
 what is the scale by which you can take the height of that 
 bliss to which it has raised them ? and where the balances 
 in which you can weigh their eternal weight of glory ? for it 
 has proved the power of God to the salvation of them all. . 
 Blessed, blessed Gospel ! guilt, which might destroy a world 
 has by thy instrumentality been cancelled — iron chains of sin 
 been burst asunder — misery, second only to that of the lost 
 in hell, has given place to the peace of God — hearts stored 
 
22 THE GOSPEL THE TOWEE OF 
 
 witli pollution made habitations of God — where Satan's seat 
 was, happy communities have been formed — large tracts of 
 the earth turned into the garden of the Lord — and heaven 
 received some of its richest songs and its brightest crowns. 
 And still the Gospel holds on its way. It looks on all the 
 wants and woes of the world as its OT\ai ; and never will it 
 rest — never will it account its commission fulfilled and its 
 work complete — till it has extiuguished all human misery, 
 broken the rod of the grand oppressor, dried up the tears of 
 the world, turned all its complaints into praise, and replen- 
 ished the universe with light, and joy, and love. 
 
 And is it possible that the word shame should ever have 
 been uttered in connexion with such a Gosjoel ? Yes, shame 
 on the world which occasioned its utterance — shame on 
 darkness, for despising the light — shame on misery, for re- 
 jecting mercy — shame on a world perishing of the wounds 
 v/hich its own hand has inflicted, and yet rejecting, scorning, 
 and still nailing to the cross the only hand stretched out to 
 heal it. Not shame on the lips that uttered the word ! 
 Honoured be the martyr zeal which could say in the presence 
 of a Cross- dosj^ising world, " I am not ashamed of the Gospel 
 of Christ," for we know what tliat meant. It meant more 
 than it means now ; at least, more than it means among us. 
 It meant, " I glory in it." It meant, "I am ready to die for 
 it." It meant, " God forbid that I should glory in aiight 
 besides." It meant, "The Gospel of Christ is the only thing 
 in the universe of which, as a means of salvation, I am not 
 ashamed. Of Judaism I am ashamed ; for its design is 
 superseded, its very essence is corrupted and perverted. Of 
 Paganism in all its forms I am ashamed ; for it has changed 
 the very truth of God into a lie. But, ashamed of the Gospel ! 
 Wliy, compared with its wisdom every other system is foolish- 
 ness ! Compared with its condescension and grace, the very 
 tender mercies of every other system are cruelty and murder I 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 23 
 
 Compared witli its power, all other strengtli is weakness, for 
 it is the very power of God ! Ashamed of the Cross ! It 
 was for the Son of God to be ashamed of that. But He was 
 not — He endured the cross, despising the shame. Had He 
 only touched that cross, He would have hallowed, ennobled, 
 and clothed it with glory. By chjing on it. He has made it 
 the symbol of the world's salvation. Ashamed of His humilia- 
 tion ! All the seraphim are at this moment adoring Him on 
 account of it ; and God also hath given Him a name above 
 every name. Ashamed of the Gospel ! It is the very 
 ' power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.'' 
 Why, it has saved even me — me, who was before a blas- 
 phemer, and a persecutor, and injurious — me, the chief of 
 sinners. And what it has done for me it can do for all man- 
 kind ; what it has done for me it must do for them, or they 
 will perish — everlastingly perish. And believing this, can I 
 hesitate to do and endure the utmost that humanity can, in 
 order that they may possess it ? Eidicule, persecution, mar- 
 tyrdom — none of these things move me ! In such a cause I 
 am now ready to be offered." 
 
 Brethren, can we sympathize with the apostle in his lofty 
 appreciation of the Gospel, and his devotedness to its diffu- 
 sion ? I ask not, first, are you thankful that you possess it ? 
 nor, secondly, do you cordially believe it ? nor, thirdly, do 
 you openly and unshrinkingly profess it ? nor, fourthly, are 
 you inspired witli a scriptural confidence in its ultimate 
 triumph ? But, fifthly, I ask all in one, by inquiring, do you 
 symjxitMze luith the apostle in his lofty appreciation of the 
 Gospel, and his devotedness to its diffusion .? True, in the 
 present day, when the facilities for diffusing the Gospel are so 
 great, numbers may take a superficial part in it who have 
 never felt its povv^er to save. But is it possible that any one 
 who has felt that power can ever after be indifferent — can be 
 less than deeply anxious for its diffusion ? Oh, brethren, if 
 Paul is to be our example, we have yet much to coj^y. If he 
 was not a fanatic, we are yet deeply guilty. If he was not 
 
24 THE GOSPEL THE POWEE OF 
 
 mad, then are we still slumbering — slumbering in the midst 
 of a world whose damnation slumbereth not. 
 
 1. And yet, in all this self-consuming zeal, was he exceed- 
 ing his obligations, doing anything more than carrying out 
 Christian principles to tlieir legitimate application — living to 
 Christ? Did he ever utter a word which implied that he 
 considered himself an exception to what others should be ? 
 that no one was bound to be so zealous for Christ as he was ? 
 that a lower standard of benevolence was sufficient for them ? 
 On the contrary, how humbly did he account himself less than 
 the least of all saints — how uniformly did he speak of him- 
 self only as one of a number constrained and borne onwards 
 by the love of Christ — and how earnestly did he say to all, 
 " Polio w me, as far as I follow Christ." 
 
 2. Numbers did thus follov/ him ; they were ready to be mes- 
 sengers or martyrs, honoured or accursed, anything or nothing, 
 so that they might assist in diffusing the Gospel of Christ. 
 And what was there in all this which is not obligatory on the 
 Christians of the present day ? What had the Saviour done 
 for tliem which he has not equalled, and even exceeded, for 
 us ? Compassioyi moved them ; but is irreligion less de- 
 praving, or sin less destructive, or hell less fearful now than 
 then? Zeal for the glory of Christ incited them ; but are 
 we less indebted to redeeming love than they ? We do not 
 hope for less than eternal life, and did they expect more? 
 The Spirit of God imi^elled and directed them ; but it was in 
 answer to earnest, united, and persevering prayer ; and is the 
 throne of grace less accessible to us than it was to them ? 
 
 3. Nor can it be alleged that the Gosj^el since his day has 
 lost any of its divinity or power to save. Of what else in the 
 whole circle of human j^ursuit can it be truly affirmed that 
 it is worthy of an imuiortal mind, and that it may be car- 
 ried without dread into the regions of eternity, and into 
 the presence of God? Bring all the past into its presence 
 — all the objects and interests which crowded and engrossed 
 the world when Paul was on earth — its honours, its riches. 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 25 
 
 its pleasures, its false religions. I am ashamed of tliem all ; 
 tliey destroyed tlie world. With the exception of those to 
 whom the Gospel proved the power of God unto salvation, 
 these things were the means of leading dovm all the myriads 
 of that generation to perdition. Bring all the existinn 
 objects andt interests of the vv^orld into its presence. The 
 wealth for which men are mad ; true, it is a mountain of 
 riches — but what will its history be ? Yv^ill it still be devoted 
 to the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, as it ever lias 
 been ? Then am I ashamed of it all. Tlie political place and 
 power for whicli men are ever struggling — will it involve 
 the same heartlessness, injustice, treachery, and misery v\diich 
 it has ever done ? Then am I heartily ashamed of it all. 
 The crowns and diadems of the earths-will their Avcarers 
 resemble the great majority of their predecessors — will tliey 
 be as responsible, and yet as weak, as worthless, and as 
 wicked ? Then am I ashamed of them all, and bless God 
 that I belong not to their number. The science of the learned 
 — however I might value the science itself — yet of the idola- 
 trous importance attached to it, of the great results expected 
 from it, of the manner in whicli it is so generally allovv^ed to 
 occupy the place of true religion, I am utterly ashamed. The 
 prevailing religions of the' earth — Popery, J\Iohammedanism, 
 Brahminism, Paganism in all its forms — can I think what a 
 world turns round its cities and populations to the eye of 
 God, what shouts of defiance against Him arise from it, v/liat 
 spectacles of shame are exhibited on it, and can I remeinber 
 that these are my fellow-men, and that God is looking do^^m 
 upon all this, without being ashamed of them ? And, then, 
 looking on to the future, can I remember the fire in which 
 all that wealth and those crowns are to be dissolved, and the 
 judgment-seat at which all these besotted and guilty beings 
 are to stand, and the tremendous fate which awaits them 
 beyond, without looking around for help ? And can I know 
 that the Gospel is precisely the help I need, and that it is 
 the only truth in a world of falsehood and error, the only 
 
26 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 thing from God in a world filled witli demons and destruc- 
 tion — and can I know tliat I have been saved by it expressly 
 that I may impart it to others, without throwing my whole 
 soul into the work ? 
 
 4. Nor can we plead that the Gospel is diffusing itself with 
 sufficient rapidity already. That our missionary success has 
 equalled our missionary efforts, we allow ; but that those 
 efforts are at all commensurate with the wants of the world, 
 we deny. Oh, it is fearful to thmk that since the time 
 when Paul pronounced the Gospel to be the power of God 
 unto salvation, forty thousand millions of human beings 
 should have been allowed to pass through this world of guilt 
 and Y/oe, on their way to a dark and dreadful eternity, 
 without having heard from the Church a single accent of 
 mercy and salvation. And still more startling is it to reflect 
 that there should be a greater number of heathen in the 
 world at this moment than at any previous period smce the 
 Gospel dispensation commenced — greater even than about 
 fifty years ago, when the modern missionary effort began ; 
 for while, owing to our languid measures, we are proselyting 
 them only at the rate of some hundreds or thousands 
 annually, they are yearly adding to their ranks, by mere 
 increase of population, about three millions and a half. This 
 is a reflection at which a Paul would have been thrown into 
 an agony of concern. Brethren, we have long enough tried 
 what half measures, what a lazy, selfish Christianity can do. 
 Is it not high time for us to try the experiment of apostolic 
 zeal? 
 
 5. Nor can we plead a want of facility for the missionary 
 enterprise — a want of access to the heathen. How vastly 
 superior are our advantages in this respect to those of a 
 Paul ! He anticipated nothing but contempt and persecution 
 if he took the Gospel to Eome. Britain is at this moment 
 the centre around which revolve the hopes and the destinies 
 of man. A large proportion of the heathen are not only 
 held in political subjection to us, but are actually ready to 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 27 
 
 l^lace themselves as disciples at our feet. Hundreds of 
 thousands of them may be said to be standing at tliis 
 moment on the threshold of the temple of idolatry, ready 
 to quit it for ever. Shall we call them into the Cliurch of 
 Christ ; or shall we remand them back to rekindle the fires 
 of their Moloch, and to rebuild the altars of their demon 
 worship ? ]\Iultitudes of them are standing at the gates of 
 the Christian Church — the hand of Providence has directed 
 them there — they bring with them signs from heaven that 
 He has sent them, and that He expects us to receive and 
 instruct them. Are we ready to make the sacrifices which 
 the occasion requires ? At all events, if we will persist in 
 neglecting them, let us j^lainly avov/ the reason. Before we 
 finally dismiss them to destruction, let us by public mani- 
 festo, or otherwise, exculpate Christianity, and blame the only 
 guilty cause, by telling them, — "Your conversion to the Chris- 
 tian faith is an object of the highest importance. To effect 
 it would greatly augment our heavenly happiness, secure 
 infinite blessedness to you, and bring to God everlasting 
 glory. As far as our instrumentality is necessary, the means 
 are all in our possession. But we cannot furnish them 
 without abridging our self-indulgence ; and as this requires 
 more love for your souls and regard for the authority of 
 Christ than we possess, v/e see no alternative but that of 
 leaving you to perish.'' Now, monstrous as such language 
 may seem, by what better plea can we excuse ourselves from 
 entire devotedness to their salvation ? 
 
 6. Brethren, the Gospel and those who believe it form the 
 only object on earth of which God is not ashamed. Tfe 
 talk of glorying in it ; but let us remember that there is a 
 Being who not only glories in it, but whose highest glory is 
 involved in it — the very power of His glory is embarked in 
 it. Every moment during which we continue to withhold 
 the Gospel from men, we are withholding from God His 
 highest glory — we are concealing from them a scheme of 
 mercy from which He is expecting to derive His richest 
 
28 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 revenue of praise for ever. The knov/ledge of the arts, the 
 discoveries of science, the treasures of philosophy — all these 
 might be kept from them with comparative impunity ; but 
 that we should keep back from them knowledge sent from 
 heaven, should cover us with shame, as it does mth guilt 
 To have kept back from them the power of God to create, 
 or to have concealed from them the power of God to punish, 
 that would have been highly dishonouring to God ; but that 
 we should keep back from a world perishing, the povvTr of 
 God to save — that we should hide from the dark world, not 
 only his glory, but the very " brightness of his glory " — that 
 we should conceal from a world filled with the most revolt- 
 ing and hideous images of Deity, the " express image of His 
 person '"' — this is to put a slight on the character and work 
 of Christ wiiich He cannot away with. That v/e should, 
 have seen the Cross of Christ, and yet should have allowed 
 the world to 2:0 on, ofFerino; its human and other sacrifices, 
 as if He had not " died once for all " — that we should have 
 held His Gospel in our hands, and yet have allowed a 
 thousand impostors and demons to pniblish their Shasters 
 and Korans instead — that we should " know the grace of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ," grace so amazing that it is perpetually 
 filling all heaven with praise, and yet that we should account 
 it hardly w^orth reporting — this is to " w^ound the Father 
 through the Son ; '' and that we should act thus, kno"\\'ing 
 as w^e do how the heart of God is set on the glory of Christ, 
 the height to which He has exalted Him, and the promises 
 of universal dominion and homage He has made to Him — 
 this is not merely to dishonour infinite majesty, but, what is 
 incomparably worse, to inflict a vvound on the very heart oi 
 infinite love. And, 
 
 7. Never till we feel this, and act accordingly — never t'll 
 the Church puts forth its power in harmony, will even the 
 evidences of Christlanitu he complete. The logical argument 
 for its truth, indeed, is perfect ; no chain of reasoning can be 
 more entire. But were its mh-acles to be all repeated again, and 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 29 
 
 its prophecies to be multiplied a liunclredfold, some signal 
 display of the power and excellency of its motives would still 
 be wantino: as tlie practical result of the whole. That signal 
 proof is simply Christian consistency — the consistency of a 
 devoted Church. In lieu of this, the world will accept 
 nothing, not even the most convincing arguments and 
 cogent appeals; ''Give us/' they say, "a practical proof 
 that you yourselves believe, and are in earnest.'' Christ will 
 accept nothing, not even the loudest professions ; " If ye love 
 me," saith He, *' keep my commandments/' We ourselves 
 can accept nothing, not even the growing activity of the pre- 
 sent day ; our consciences testify against us, and say, " All 
 this activity is far less than you can do ; " and you are 
 pledged to do all that is possible for the recovery of the 
 world. But where is your self-denial .? — as yet you have 
 given only the crumbs that fall from your table. Where is 
 your consecration 1 — at present you act only from occasional 
 impulse or compunction, or the lowest degree of principle. 
 Where is the lueight of your character 1 — not merely is it 
 wanting — well would it be if this were all — but it is against 
 you ; in exact proportion as it is absent from the cause of 
 Christ, it is present to assist and promote the cause of His 
 foes, to prolong the ruin of immortal souls. UntU this evil 
 be remedied, therefore, expect to be kept low, humbled, and 
 disgraced before the world ; to be strangers to everything 
 like Pentecostal visitations from on high ; to be fearful, 
 uncertain, and unhappy in yourselves. But only remedy the 
 evil, only be consistent, and then " arise, and shine ; for thy 
 light will have come, and the glory of the Lord will have 
 arisen upon thee." What could stand before the Gospel of 
 Christ, were all the spirituality of its doctrines, the hohness 
 of its precepts, and the earnest and compassionate benevo- 
 lence of its aims embodied and made visible in the living 
 character of its disciples ? Who could doubt the reahty of 
 its miracles, when the Church was seen standing upon them, 
 so to speak, as on the mount of God, herself the crowning 
 
30 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 miracle — the great moral miracle of a vast commimity, 
 living, not nnto themselves, but unto Hini that died for them 
 and rose again ? Who could question the truth of prophecy, 
 when the fulfilment of a thousand prophecies was realized 
 in that sublime spectacle itself; when the Church herself 
 became a standing prophecy, her every act a presage of 
 success, her every conflict a prediction of victory, her con- 
 secrated character, as the representative of her Lord's 
 character, prophesying to the world in mute but mighty 
 eloquence that to Him every knee must bow ? Who could 
 doubt the reality, the superiority, the divinity of the Gosj^el, 
 when it had thus transferred the whole might of its o^vn 
 character to the character of the Church ? We ourselves could 
 not doubt it, though novr, as the necessary result of our super- 
 ficial acquaintance with that power, we often do ; but then, 
 in the largeness of its views, we should acquire such an 
 expansion of soul, and in the execution of its lofty purposes 
 such a sympathy with true greatness, as would make the 
 weak like David, and David like an angel of the Lord. The 
 world around us could not doubt it. As in primitive times, 
 "fear would come upon every soul,'' God woukl give us 
 "lavour with all the people,'' and vrould "add to the Church 
 daily such as should be saved." Kor could the heathen 
 themselves doubt it ; thei?' great argument against Chris- 
 tianity would be gone ; the main objection with Vvdiich our 
 conqiarative ajmthy at present arms them would, by the very 
 change of our conduct, be converted into an irresistible plea 
 in its behalf They could not doubt our identity with Christ 
 Every word we uttered in our Christian capacity would 
 remind them of His compassionate voice ; and ev^ry action 
 we performed would remind them of His gracious example. 
 Our character would be an expansion of the character of 
 Christ. 
 
 They could not doubt of the power of Christian principle, 
 for they wordd see that it secured the self-denying energy of 
 the whole man — the whole Church. They could not doubt 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 31 
 
 our helief of their danger or the depth of our concern for 
 their deliverance, for they would see it in the unremittino' 
 earnestness of our efforts to save them. Nor could they 
 doubt any longer the power of the Gospel to transform the 
 ivorld, for every day would bring them the report of fresh 
 accessions made to the kingdom of Christ. Only let the 
 Church be itself — only let it become the devoted agency 
 which it was meant to be — and the world should soon be 
 given into its hands. Who could see it move in its mission- 
 ary path w^ithout being ready to precede it as its eager 
 herald, shouting, " Prepare ye the v>\ay of the Lord," for Christ 
 himself Vv^ould be with it? Who could look down on the 
 idolatrous regions which lay in its route without summoning 
 them to surrender in the name of the Lord, and feelin<x the 
 certainty of their speedy subjection to Christ ? Who could 
 look into the roll of prophecy v>^ithout the full conviction that 
 all those predictions wdiich paint the universality and glory 
 of Messiah's reign had reached the eve of their fulfilment? 
 The honour and triumph of the Gospel icould he completed. 
 
 Christians, where else are interests like these at stake? 
 Where else, amidst all the enterprises of time, does so ample 
 a field stretch before the view, or such momentous issues 
 await the result? To overrate such an object is impossible; 
 to stand aloof from it, or even to regard it coldly, enormous 
 guilt. What, then, is the amount of practical interest which 
 you are taking in it? What are you doing that others may 
 ftel its power — your children, your servants, friends, neigh- 
 bours — the world at large? Ask yourself: — Is it at all 
 connnensurate with its mighty claims? 
 
 Let others boast of great designs, and talk of final causes; 
 h'jre is the final cause itself — an end so great that all other 
 ends stand to it only in the relations of means — so lofty 
 that there is nothing higher — so glorious that everything 
 else is honoured by serving it. The one point, the sole end 
 to which everything in the government of God is tending, is 
 " to the praise of the glory of His grace : " and to this point 
 
32 THE GOSrEL THE POWER OF 
 
 it is tending with the directness and force of a universal law. 
 Every mite given — every Bible distributed — every missionary 
 sent forth — every church planted — falls in with that stream of 
 events, and forms a part of that vast combination of means 
 by which God is reducing and restoring all things unto Him- 
 self Even now the agencies of Providence are urged into 
 unusual activity; all things are rushing to that final issue. 
 Belay to join in the march of mercy, and you will lose 
 opportunities of honouring God and of serving your race 
 such as never occurred to tlie Church before, and can never 
 be enjoyed hi/ you agam. Be indolent, covetous, self-indul- 
 gent now, and the very stones will cry out. Continue to live 
 for yourself, and the universe will upbraid you — the j^erishing 
 will 23oint at and reproach you as accessory to their destruc- 
 tion — the Judge himself will say, " I never knew you." On 
 the contrary, be faithful now, and the very trees of the field 
 Vvill clap their hands ; " live unto the Lord," and all things 
 shall live for you, and be ready to serve you in His cause; 
 be entirely devoted to His claims, and others shall be moved 
 by your example, and the world blessed by your influence, 
 and Christ himself shall rejoice over you. Less than entire 
 consecration has been tried for ages, and the fatal result is 
 to be seen in the thousands perpetually passing — passing at 
 this moment — to the bar of God from regions where the 
 sound of salvation has never been heard. If you sympathize 
 with Christ, then, in the travail of His soul, you will, from 
 this time, see what entire devotedness can do for their recovery. 
 Moved by His example, you will look through your tears on 
 a world perishing in its guilt, and you will feel that you are 
 never imitating Him so much as by self-denying jiainstaking 
 endeavours for its salvation. Subdued by the tenderness of 
 its claims, you will freely acknowledge that you are not your 
 own; that the same reasons which bind you to do anything 
 for Christ, bind you to do everything in your j^ovrer, and to 
 do it in the best possible manner; that you are bought with 
 a price so great, that it might purchase the entire dedication 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 33 
 
 of a whole universe of intelligent beings to all eternity. 
 Affected and engrossed by the magnitude of His cause — the 
 cause of the world's recovery — you will feel, that to throw 
 less than all your energies into its promotion is an insult to 
 all the momentous interests which it involves. Not only, 
 therefore, wil) you task your own powers in its behalf, you 
 v/ill task them partly in an endeavour to move heaven and 
 earth to join you. In a word, constrained by His love, you 
 vrill "thus judge'' — and never can you be said to be moved 
 by His love except as you are thus judging, and laboriously 
 acting on the judgment — " that if one died for all, then were 
 all dead ; and that he died for all, that they who live sJiould not 
 henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him Vvdio died for 
 them and rose again." Hasten into His presence, fall do^vn 
 at His feet, and surrender yourself and everything you have 
 to His service. He will graciously accept the dedication; 
 and, ten thousand ages hence, you ^vill be still praising Him 
 that you did so, and an unkno"»vn number will join in blessing 
 Him on your account. And, brethren, to this it must come. 
 " When Zion travailed, she brought forth;" and not till then. 
 The time is hastening on, v\dien the only question v/ith the 
 Church v>^ill be — when the only consideration must be — Is 
 it within the compass of our pov\^er to bring aU around us 
 under the influence of the Gospel — to send the Gospel through 
 the world? Not, whether v/e can send it with a small effort 
 — with little self-denial — in a way which shaU not materially 
 interfere v/ith our favourite plans of ease and personal grati- 
 fication; but can we, by great and long-continued efforts — 
 by strong crying and tears — by the exercise of a bold and 
 vigorous faith — by the most strenuous exertions, and the 
 most agonizing struggles, furnish a dying world — the Saviour's 
 world — v>dth that Gospel which might prove the power of 
 God to their salvation? The question must be answered by 
 the actual experiment of unreserved devotedness to the 
 attempt. 
 
 But, finally, let me earnestly ask you, my hearers, has the 
 
 
 
34 THE GOSPEL THE POWER OF 
 
 Gospel jDroved the power of God to your own salvation ? Its 
 passing impulses you may have felt, but do you know it as 
 an abiding jjower ? Its sublime imagery may have often re- 
 galed your imagination, and its touching appeals have moved 
 your passions, and its solemn claims have wrung from you a 
 passing vow; but, oh, do you know it as an indwelling prin- 
 ciple — a transforming power? A sj^iritual j)Ower of some 
 kind you are always living under, whether you wiU or not. 
 Your path through life lies through a scene in which every 
 object and event is constantly shedding on you an influence 
 for evil or for good. But here is an instrument by which 
 you can be saved; and the only instrument by whose in- 
 fluence you can be saved. Other things may inform your 
 mind, but this transforms the heart. Other things may be- 
 guile and amuse, but this saves the soul. Other things may 
 suflice for this life, but you are on your way to another life. 
 And, oh, how fearful the prospect of entering the eternal 
 state without having felt the only power which can there 
 avail you. Marks and signs of having yielded to other in- 
 fluences you will carry with you ; but that you should have 
 resisted the only power that could save — that you should 
 have spent your life in a world where the cross of Christ 
 was set up, without ever falling prostrate at its foot — that 
 you should have had daily to pass by the cross, should have 
 lived for years in the midst of the gracious influences which 
 stream from it, and yet that you should have come out from 
 among them all unmelted and unrenewed — this will be for 
 an endless lamentation. Many around you, too, ar^e examples 
 of its saving power. The Gospel has come to them " not in 
 word only, but in power.'' Its statements of human depravity 
 and exigence they have believed as true of themselves. Its 
 off'ers of salvation they have gratefully accepted for them- 
 selves. They do not merely coldly assent to the Gospel — or 
 not deny it merely ; tliey " believe to the saving of their 
 souls.'' And why will not you thus believe ? Your soul's 
 endless well-being is at stake ; why will you peril its precious 
 
GOD UNTO SALVATION. 35 
 
 interests any longer ? "Why"— and, oh, remember that it 
 is infinite tenderness which asks you the question — " Why 
 will ye die?'' This day breathe forth the earnest suppli- 
 cation — " let the Gospel j)rove the power of God to my 
 salvation/'' 
 
 Spirit of God ! signalize this occasion with Thy converting 
 grace ; fill this new sanctuary with Thy glory ; inspire with 
 renewed energy thine honoured servant who is to minister in 
 it ; here let Thy Gospel prove the power of God to the salva- 
 tion of numbers, that Thy Church may be enlarged, and Thy 
 kindom come. Amen. 
 
36 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE DWELLING WITH THE 
 
 CONTEITE MAN. 
 
 Isaiah Ivii. 15 — " For tlius saith the high sir.d lofty One that inhahiteth 
 eternity, whose name is Holy ; I dwell in the high and holy place, with 
 him also that is of" a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of 
 the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." 
 
 Isaiah Ixvi. l, 2 — " Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is my throne, and 
 the earth is my footstool: where is the house tliat ye build unto me? 
 and where is the place of my rest? For all those things hath mine 
 hand made, and aU those things have been, saith the Lord : but to this 
 man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite s})irit, and 
 trembleth at my word." 
 
 These two passages are evidently congenial in sentiment, 
 and are both directed against that one prevailing error v>diicli 
 leads men to substitute the sensible for the spiritual — the 
 creature for the Creator. But thouoh they are both levelled 
 agjainst the same error, the forms of that error are different. 
 From the context of the first we learn that it refers to a 
 period of restoration from national calamity — that with a 
 view to that restoration the Israelites generally liad resorted 
 to foreign aid, and even to idolatrous means, at the same 
 time foolishly expecting that God would add His co-operation 
 to the whole, as if Omnipotence would be seen confederat- 
 ing with such allies — " God and Isis" inscribed on the same 
 banner, " Jehovah and Baal" joined in the same war-cry — 
 or as if the idolatrous state of mind which could lead them 
 to seek such helj3, and the proud elation they felt at having 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 87 
 
 obtained it, was just tlie approj^riate feeling for them to bring 
 into His presence — a feeling which seemed to say to Him, 
 " We have done what we could to render ourselves at this 
 crisis independent of Thee ; so that whether Thou art with us 
 or not, we calculate on success. But still, to save appearances, 
 and remembering that Thou art our national Deity, we ask 
 Thy co-operation, and would rather have Thee with us than 
 against us.'' " No,'' saith God, " when thou criest, let thy 
 companies deliver thee ; but the wind shall carry them all 
 away — vanity shall take them. Not that I i3ropose to work 
 without means ; but I, the supreme, the eternal, the Holy 
 One, who am independent of all means, if I do employ them, 
 must be allowed to select such as are appropriate to my own 
 character. These are the humble among men, the contrite, 
 and all ' who put their trust in me,' and these * shall inherit 
 my holy mountain.' " 
 
 The second passage refers to a period subsequent to the 
 first — a period when the prediction in the first should be 
 accomplished, when the nation should be restored, the worship 
 of God re-established, and when those who had been spoken 
 of as humble, contrite, and believing, should be occupied in 
 rebuilding and beautifying the temple on Zion. But here 
 we find the very men who had escaped the tacit rebuke of 
 the first passage laying themselves open to the implied re- 
 buke of the second, by trusting unduly to the attractions of 
 their temple. They had avoided the error in its grosser form, 
 for they expected deliverance from none but God ; but into 
 the subtler form of that error they completely fell, for they 
 expected to secure the Divine presence among them by the 
 complication and splendour of their ritual. Thus, if the 
 former party acted as if they aimed to exj^^el God from among 
 them, the latter acted as if they hoped to build Him in, and 
 engross Him to themselves — the error of both proceeding 
 from a preference of the sensible to the spiritual, and from a 
 mistaken apprehension of the character of God, as if He were 
 altogether such an one as themselves. Accordingly, in each 
 
88 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 case the Almigiity recalls tlieir attention to tliat infinite per- 
 fection of His nature, by which He is distinguished from every 
 other being in the universe — evidently intending that the sub- 
 lime recollection should shame them out of their delusions, 
 by reminding them that everything is to be viewed in rela- 
 tion to Him ; since the highest distinction of the loftiest crea- 
 ture is, that it can find a place in His train, can harmonize 
 with His plans, can reflect His image, and share His appro- 
 bation. 
 
 In accordance with this view, and in the humble hope that 
 we may derive from it the same practical impression, we 
 propose to illustrate the following propositions, — that, from 
 eternity, the residence of God has always corresponded 
 with His nature and perfections ; that if He condescend, 
 therefore, to commune with any of the children of men, it 
 can only be, in harmony with the same principle, with the 
 humble and the contrite ; that all worship, therefore, is 
 acceptable to Him only in proportion as it harmonizes with 
 the excellencies of His nature ; and that all human instru- 
 mentalitfj depends for its efficiency on the same condition. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the first place, we remark that, from eternity, the resi- 
 dence of God has always corresponded with His infinite 
 nature and perfections. This seems to be implied in the 
 text in three particulars : being eternal, He has inhabited 
 eternity ; as the High and Lofty One, He has occupied the 
 throne of supremacy ; and His name being Holy, He has 
 dwelt in the high and holy place. 
 
 1. He calls our attention, first, to His eternity ; for this 
 necessarily preceded the external manifestation both of His 
 supremacy and holiness, and can itself never be manifested. 
 Far back in thought, and beyond the limits of time, as we may 
 be able occasionally and for a single moment to go, we are 
 ever accompanied by the humbling conviction that we have 
 made no approach whatever to the understanding of His 
 
DWELLING AYITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 89 
 
 eternity. The discoveries of science lead back our imagina- 
 . tion to a period incalculably remote ; but even if each of 
 the countless stars had been formed in succession, and if 
 the time which elapsed between the formation of each had 
 equalled that entire period, the mind which could sj^an the 
 whole, which could dart back a thought to the moment in 
 which the first star beamed on the regions of space, would 
 feel that he had only reached the starting point for the pre- 
 ceding eternity. For if then he should ask, " Where dwelt 
 the Deity before that ?" the answer of the oracle is, "He 
 inhabited eternity ;" so that that star, of which he had caught 
 a glimpse, could only be regarded as the first lamp that was 
 lighted up to guide the way back to His dread abode. 
 
 Can we transport ourselves back, in thought, beyond that 
 verge of creation ? How shall we prepare for the solemnity 
 of the occasion ? Let us imagine ourselves to have been left 
 alone, at midnight, within the veil of the ancient Jewish 
 temple ; and with the awe inspired by the idea of being there 
 alone, and in darkness, with the present God, let us transport 
 ourselves back beyond the limits of the created, till we find 
 ourselves alone in the unseen presence of the Eternal Un- 
 create. And, oh ! with what additional dreadfulness is the 
 majesty of this darkness invested when we remember that it 
 is the majesty of solitude. He has inhabited this eternity 
 alone. Here the great and only truth which He may be re- 
 garded as silently repeating through all the solitudes of space, 
 and through every point of duration, is the sublime affirma- 
 tion, "lam, underived, self- existent, absolute Being ; in which 
 sense there never has been, never will, never can be, any 
 being besides. All other being can only have leave to be." 
 Here, through all the interminable past, wherever he looked. 
 He was — for He himself was immensity. And is it possible, 
 we may imagine ourselves to ask — is it possible that this space 
 will ever be occupied by aught besides ? Sun, the spot where 
 thou wilt stand, and Earth, the space where thou wilt roll, 
 is holy ground. It is, and for an eternity it has been, oecu- 
 
40 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 pied by Him who will be your ^Maker. Here, were He to 
 break the universal silence, He might demand, " Is there a 
 God besides me? yea, there is none; I know not any/' I, 
 that know all the possibilities of being — I, who at this 
 moment am everjrvvhere present throughout illimitable space, 
 find such a being nowhere — I, who have thus inhabited im- 
 mensity from eternity, have never, in any point of past dura- 
 tion, beheld the least manifestation of such a being — I, that 
 am unlimited Being, exclude, by that very perfection and neces- 
 sity of my nature, the possibility of another unlimited being. 
 
 But He need not thus speak to vindicate His claims, for 
 there is none to dispute them. In imagination, we are 
 standing as yet in the solitudes of the past eternity. The 
 first creative fiat has not yet gone forth. Never has this 
 stillness been broken. No ray of created light has ever 
 beamed across this darkness. This infinite space has never 
 owned a world. No seraph bows before His throne. What- 
 ever is, is God — infinite self-sufiicience. Boundless as His 
 capacity for happiness must always have been, the conscious- 
 ness of His own excellence, and the contemj)lation of His 
 own perfections, have ever been sufficient to fill it. Un- 
 limited and unceasing as His activity has ever been, His own 
 nature has been sufficient to emj^loy and contain the whole. 
 Dateless in His duration, the postponement of creation for 
 ten million ages would not have increased that duration, nor 
 would it have been diminisiied liad the fiat gone forth 
 ten million ages ago. Unshared as His eternity, and lonely 
 as His immensity may appear to have been. His self-commu- 
 nion has been sufficient to occupy and replenish the whole 
 with infinite happiness. Whatever is, is God. Without Him, 
 even eternity would not have been, for He Himself is eter- 
 nity. He is the only and the all of being. 
 
 2. But let us recross the boundary of time — let us su^:)- 
 pose the first creative f^at to have gone forth — the solitudes 
 of immensity to have been peoj^lcd with exalted orders of 
 intelliofent beings, and its silence broken with the echoes of 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTFJTE ]\IAN. 41 
 
 their praise. Need we ask the rank which He sustains in 
 relation to them ? The infinite superiority of His own nature 
 determines that — determines that it is the reLation of supre- 
 macy to subordination — of all-sufficiency to dependence. 
 Hence the sentiment of the text ; for where should the high 
 and lofty One dwell, but in the high and holy place ? How- 
 ever vast and various their excellencies may be, they can 
 never forget that the v/hole is derived, that it existed in Him 
 before it was imparted to them, that it is limited, so that 
 after it has gone on augmenting for countless ages, they 
 will still have to remember that it is infinitely short of His 
 excellence. Hov»^ever much they may be able to compre- 
 hend of what He is, from what He has done since He began 
 to create, they will ever have to remember that all the eter- 
 nity of His past glory remains unexplored ; and that, as they 
 cannot fathom the abyss of His ijresent perfections, the 
 mystery of His nature is hourly augmenting in their hands ; 
 that time is adding its mystery to the mystery of the past 
 eternity, and that the mystery of both is to be carried for- 
 wards to the still greater account of the eternity to come. 
 They will feel— His most intelligent creatures will feel — that 
 after they shall have continued to advance through inter- 
 minable ages from throne to throne, and from one height of 
 glory to a higher still, the loftiest summit will only give 
 them a more enlarged and commanding prospect of His 
 boundless perfection. 
 
 Oh, could we ascend and obtain a view of those thrones 
 towering above thrones, and, having scaled an unknown 
 height, could we then see others loftier still, stretching away 
 beyond our furthest sight, what should we behold but a few 
 of the lowest of the steps which lead up to His throne ? He 
 speaks, and the most exalted of the principalities look up to 
 Him and feel that there is but One High and Lofty; that, 
 compared with Him, all created height is His footstool, all 
 other dignity is seated in the dust. He looks on them, and 
 they feel that " He humbleth himself to behold the things 
 
42 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 that are in heaven/' Lofty as their natures and counth?ss 
 as tlieir myriads may be, there is a sense in whicli He must 
 ever continue to dwell as perfectly alone through the eternity 
 to come, as He did in the sublime and appalling solitude of 
 the eternity past. He still iuhabiteth eternity. It is the 
 only habitation which suits His infinite greatness. He can 
 never come forth from it, so as to bring Himself within 
 created limits. On account of His incomparable greatness, 
 never will He be able to bring Himself within the compre- 
 hension of His loftiest creatures. Eetired within the depths 
 of His own immensity, they will never be able to approach 
 and behold Him directhj. For all they know of Him, they 
 will ever feel tliat they are indebted to a medium of His own 
 devising, and that, without that medium, the whole created 
 universe, including themselves, would only have constituted 
 a living a.ltar with this inscription, "To the unknown God." 
 
 3. But besides His existence as Eternal and His rank as 
 Supreme, he proclaims His character as Holy — as the Being 
 whose very ncime is Holy, and His name is His nature. What 
 the moral character of Jehovah might j)rove to be, was a 
 question (if we can suppose there ever was a moment when 
 it yet remained to be disclosed to His intelligent creatures) of 
 the deepest interest, of the last importance. That He in- 
 habited eternity they knew ; for had there ever been a period 
 when He was not, He would not now have been ; but had He 
 filled the past eternity with good or with evil ? That He was 
 the high and lofty One they saw, and this gave an infinite 
 interest to the question, What will be the character of His 
 government ? Will it be a dominion of law or of force ? and 
 if of law, what will be its nature ? What will be punished, 
 what rewarded ? Tell us. What have we to expect ? Eternity 
 is before us — what awaits us in that boundless future ? Oh, 
 that we knew tlie character of God, that we might at least 
 conjecture what He has stored up for us there. 
 
 But even supposing, I say, there was ever a moment when 
 this vast disclosure remained to be made to His intelliojent 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTRITE MAN. 43 
 
 creatures, it could not have been for more than a moment. 
 They had only to look within in order to perceive that they 
 themselves were made for holiness. They had only to listen 
 in order to hear Him saying perpetually, " Be ye holy, for I 
 am holy.'' They had only to examine His character in order 
 to see that holiness sums up all His attributes ; that He loves 
 holiness for itself; that He has nothing to hope, and yet He 
 is holy — nothing to fear, and yet He is holy; that He 
 and holiness are one. They had only to study the con- 
 stitution of the universe in order to see that all its parts 
 are simply that holiness put into visible forms — all its laws 
 the same holiness drawn out and put into harmonious 
 activit}^ They had only — oh ! fearful experiment — they had 
 only to sin, even in thought, and all the order of nature v/as 
 throT\^i into confusion; the universe armed to resist the 
 infraction, and holiness flamed forth in a consuming fire — a 
 fire which ceased to flame in heaven only on the condition 
 that it midit kindle and burn on in hell for ever — a fire 
 never to be quenched ! Oh, where shall such holiness dwell 
 but in the high and holy place? Where shall it dwell when 
 the heavens are not clean in its sight? Who shall dvv'ell 
 with it when even the angels in its sight are charged with 
 folly? Hath the temple of the universe a holy of holies — 
 not merely a holy place, but a thrice holy — the holiest of all? 
 That is the appropriate residence of Him " vvdiose name is 
 holy;'' and the only condition on which He will make even 
 that His peculiar residence is, that sin be kept at an infinite 
 distance from it — that there be a hell to receive and imprison 
 it; and the only condition on which even His holiest creatures 
 are allowed to dwell with Him there is (indeed He has made 
 it a law of their nature), that they shall never for a moment 
 remain at a stand in holiness, but be ever advancing to higher 
 and higher degrees. And when they begin to praise His 
 holiness, they feel as if they could never satisfy themselves 
 with the adoring exclamation, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord 
 God Almighty!" And when He calls them nearer to His 
 
44j the high and lofty one 
 
 throne, tliey can see but one sight — that He is glorious in 
 holiness. And when He calls them nearer still, a single look 
 overpowers them, and the wing which has taken them there 
 veils their faces as they fall j^rostrate before Him. 
 
 Such is the awful yet glorious Being who speaks in the 
 text. And do we not see that His object in speaking is to 
 impress us with the great truth we are so prone to forget, 
 that from eternity His residence has always corresponded 
 with His nature and perfections; nay, more, has been onade 
 hy them? His residence and His relations have received 
 their character entirely from His character. Even man, one 
 of His creatures, can say, "The mind is its own 2)lace;'' 
 imparts its own character to it — sheds its own hue over sur- 
 rounding objects — is its own heaven or its own hell. And 
 shall the prerogative of the Infinite Mind be inferior? " 'No," 
 saith He, " without Lie there would have been no eternity, 
 for there would have been none to inhabit it; without Me 
 there would have been no Suj^reme, for there would have 
 been no subordinate; without Me there would have been 
 nothing high, nothing holi/, for there would have been no 
 standard either of height or of excellence. Without being 
 subjected to the succession of time, it is I alone who give 
 existence to duration ; without being confined to place, it is 
 I who give locality to space, and it is I who impart a character 
 to the j^lace where I choose to be known. By the perfection 
 of Lly nature I am ]\Iy own place and the centre of all I have 
 made, so that everything is according as it is related to Me.'' 
 
 n. 
 
 Then, secondly, if He condescend to hold intercourse with 
 man, it can only be in harmony with the same principle. He 
 has not one principle for one world and another j^rincij^le for 
 another. He knows nothing of the temporizing and shifting 
 policy of man. The doctrine of exj)ediency has no place in 
 His administration. Ascertain the law which regulates His 
 conduct in any one particular, and you will find that it regu- 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 45 
 
 lates His conduct in every other particular of the same chiss. 
 Select any one j^rinciple of His conduct, and you will find 
 that, like Himself, it is from everlasting to everlasting, that 
 it is on its way from one eternity to another; and all this 
 owing to that infinite perfection of His nature which neither 
 requires nor admits of a change. 
 
 Now, this is the principle on which He comes forth in the 
 text and demands an audience from His people, leaving them 
 to infer from what He states, three things : — the folly of sup- 
 posing that He could be influenced, in His intercourse with 
 them, by the low considerations which regulate their inter- 
 course with each other: the reasonableness of His selcctino- 
 the humble and the contrite as the objects of His regard; and 
 the depth of His condescension and grace in regarding even 
 these. 
 
 1. Why is it, think you, that He comes forth and gives us 
 this description of Himself? Why, but to shew us that, if 
 He condescends to hold any intercourse with us, the terms of 
 that intercourse must be prescribed entirely by Himself 
 You judge (as if He had said) of what a fellow-creature may- 
 expect from you by his titles ; hear my titles, — '' Jehovah, 
 the High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose 
 name is Holy.'' What distinction can you add to them? You 
 estimate a mortal's rank by the remoteness of his ancestry — 
 I am the First, the unoriginated Being. " Gird up now thy 
 loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou 
 me. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the 
 earth?" Cast a look if thou canst at the abyss of eternity — 
 that was Mine abode. " Before the mountains were brondit 
 forth, or ever I had formed the earth and the w^orld, even 
 from everlasting to everlasting, I am God.'' You judge of a 
 mortal's rank by the mansion he inhabits, and, on occasion, 
 you prepare for his reception accordingly. There is a place 
 which, since time began, I choose to designate as the 2:>lace 
 of My abode. I dwell in the high and holy place. But 
 could you hope to scale its heights when the distance of the 
 
46 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 nearest star defies your utmost ^Dowers of imagination? Could 
 you hope to sm^ive the siglit of its splendours, when even the 
 sun, a created spark, dazzles and confounds your gaze? You 
 can be awed by the presence of even human worth; what, 
 then^ should you feel in the presence of Him whose tiame is 
 holy — who, if He looks on iniquity, can only look on it to 
 scorch and wither it up? " Thus saith the Lord, The heaven is 
 my throne, and tlie earth is my footstool; where is the house 
 that ye build unto me? and where is the place of my rest? 
 For all those things hath mine hands made, and all those 
 things have been, saith tlie Lord/' You think of erecting 
 a tem23le w^hicli shall attract the Majesty of heaven by its 
 splendours, as if you should invite a monarch to descend from 
 his throne by gilding his footstool. On account of His great- 
 ness, you would enlarge its dimensions? But do not I fill 
 heaven and earth? saith the Lord. On account of His 
 grandeur, you would multiply its priests and bedizen them 
 with costly robes. Think of His state and retinue above, 
 where His train filleth the temple, where thousand thousands 
 minister unto Him, and ten thousand times ten thousand 
 stand before Him 1 On account of His supremacy, you would 
 multiply His sacrifices. "Will I eat tJie flesh of bulls?'' 
 saith God, " or drink the blood of goats?" Multiply them as 
 you will, set all Lebanon in a blaze, and offer uj) all its herds 
 as a burnt-ofiering, still He can say, " Every beast of the 
 forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills." Offer 
 up the whole material vrorld, and He could say, " The world 
 is mine, and the fulness thereof" Mine before you or your 
 race came into existence; ^line by the highest right — the 
 right of creation. — Oh, the folly of suj^posing that the lavoiir 
 of Lifinite Excellence could be propitiated by material gifts, 
 or the presence of the Omnipresent God could be limited to 
 any circle that we could draw! 
 
 But because man may have convicted himself of folly in 
 these respects, is he, therefore, to retire mortified and in de- 
 spair of ever securing the Divine presence ? Let us hear what 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE ]\IAN. 47 
 
 God the Lord will yet say to iis ? He has informed iis of 
 His eternal abode, of His supremacy, and of His excellence, 
 and yet He is speaking. " Thus saith the High and Lofty 
 One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in 
 the high and holy place ; '' and as He says this. His eye is 
 running to and fro in the earth, wandering over halls, and 
 palaces, and gilded domes, till, settling complacently on an 
 object in the dust, he adds, "with him also that is of a con- 
 trite and humble spirit/' AVhat ! and is it a small thmg with 
 God to tell us this — that He should couple these two expres- 
 sions together — that He dwells with the high and the holy, 
 and with the low and the broken-hearted ? What ! is the 
 transition from that height to that depth nothing to Him, 
 that He speaks of it in one sentence — in the same breath ? 
 " With him also '' — as if it made little or no difference to 
 His greatness whether He dwelt there or here. Whereas we 
 have been endeavouring to shew that all the magnificence of 
 earth is as nothing on account of the superior magnificence of 
 heaven ; but we find that in a sense we have erred, for even 
 the magnificence of heaven itself is as nothing in His sight. 
 Irrespective of all such considerations, He tells us that He 
 dwells there or here ahke. While we are losing ourselves in 
 wonder at His condescension in commmiing with a prostrate 
 child of the dust. He would have us to carry our wonder fur- 
 ther back than that, to the amazing fact that He should com- 
 mune with any of His creatures. He would have us to know 
 that the wonder is that He should be found in intercourse 
 with the spirits of heaven ; but having stooped to that, it re- 
 quires but a very slight degree of condescension more to stoop 
 to man ; that however lofty they may appear to us, and how- 
 ever near to His throne they may seem to be as viewed from 
 earth, as viewed from the height of His throne, man is but 
 " a little lower than the angels " — loth are nearly on a level. 
 " Who is like unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high, 
 who humbleth himself to behold the things that are in heaven, 
 and that are in earth ! '' 
 
48 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 2. Now having thus humbled Himself, we see the reason- 
 ableness of His selecting the humble and the contrite as the 
 objects of His Divine regard. It is only such that are j^repared 
 to receive Him. Every other description of character is i^repared 
 to resist His coming, or to give Him only a feigned welcome. 
 As the infinite and eternal Spirit, He comes to commune 
 with our spirit ; but in the case of every class except the 
 humble, He finds the ground already occuj)ied, and He has to 
 stand at the door and knock. As the High and the Lofty 
 One, He comes to have His supremacy recognized, to receive 
 us at His footstool ; but all except the humble are seated on 
 little thrones of their own, and will not come down to receive 
 Him. As the Being ivhose name is Holy, He comes to imprint 
 on us the likeness of His own image ; but none save the 
 humble and those melted in contrition are in a state to receive 
 the sacred impress. He comes to he honoured, aj^preciated, 
 adored ; but all save the humble are busied in asserting their 
 own little claims — are, in effect, prepared to quarrel with His 
 supremacy, and to j^luck at His sceptre. Can we wonder, 
 then, that if He comes to commune with us, His abode should 
 be with the humble? Where should goodness dwell but 
 with gratitude ? Where should the fulness of the Creator 
 pour itself forth but into the emptiness of the creature ? 
 
 3. But will He commune even with the contrite ? For 
 here the question arises, the wonder presents itself, that He 
 should condescend even to this. And what part of His con- 
 duct towards us is not marked with condescension ? And 
 what part of His condescension is not a wonder, an abyss of 
 wonder? Ascend to the first act — that he should in any 
 sense have come forth from the depths of His eternity, that 
 He should have deigned to be a Creator, that He should have 
 put off from Him the glory in which He had been eternally 
 enshrined, laying aside an eternal weight of it, in order to 
 create, that He should descend to be omnipotent for such 
 a purpose, and then that, having made creatures. He should 
 vouchsafe to be called supreme in relation to such creatures 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTrxITE I^IAN. 4.9 
 
 to beings the highest of whom is, by necessity of nature, infi- 
 nitely below Him— to stoop to such grandeur is itself con- 
 descension ; and then that He should submit to be worshipped 
 —worshipped by beings who will never be able to comprehend 
 Him, never be able to think of more than one part of His 
 character, or of one illustration of His character, at a time, 
 so that at the moment when they are most lost in admiration 
 by thinking of that one, all the other myriad illustrations of 
 His character will be unthought of, and after they shall have 
 been enlarging their conceptions of His glory for myriads of 
 years, that they should still have to remember that what they 
 know of Him is as nothing compared with what remains to 
 be known of Him ! 
 
 But this is only the first stage in the history of His con- 
 descension. All this applies, and might be confined to, the 
 unsinning angels. All this, the anxious penitent may say- 
 all this I can believe. But what if, after His condescending 
 to make a creature, that creature should labour to unmake 
 himself, or to make himself something essentially different 
 from what he was ? What if, after His condescending to 
 allow Himself to be worshipped, that creature should refuse to 
 worship Him — should worship other objects even in His very 
 presence, worship himself rather— should labour to forget 
 Him, and failing in that, should fill with enmity against ffim 
 —what could then be expected, what could condescension 
 itself do in such a case ? 
 
 AYhat miglit have been expected we know ; and it is that 
 which makes vrhat He has done so amazing. That He should 
 have stooped to ask for a hearing, in a world filled vdih. the 
 noisy praises of itself and its idols ; that amidst that din, 
 He, the High and the Lofty One, should have deigned to 
 rei^ublish the forgotten fact of His own existence, and to 
 recapitulate his titles; that He whose heaven is one vast 
 temple, sacred throughout to His worship, should command 
 the erection of a house on earth, where He knew that idolatry 
 would come up to its very doors, and even obtrude into His 
 
50 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 presence ; and that then, when the crisis required, when jus- 
 tice demanded the sinner himself or a substitute, that that 
 substitute should have been found in the person of Him who, 
 being in the form of God, thought it no robbery to be equal 
 with God — that the Invisible himself should have assumed a 
 material form, taking up the very dust we trod on into His 
 mysterious person — that the Supreme should have become 
 subordinate, subjecting Himself to His own laws, voluntarily 
 placing Himself at the bar of justice in our stead, laying bare 
 His own bosom, and inviting the stroke which should have 
 fallen ujDon us, bowing His head and becoming obedient unto 
 death, even the death of the cross, — this is a scale of conde- 
 scension in which we behold Him stooping lower and lower 
 still, till He has reached a point where even inspiration itself 
 stands lost in wonder, and can only find relief in adoring 
 exclamations, exclamations which are among the most wel- 
 come parts of the Word of God — " Lord, what is man, that 
 thou art mindful of him ? Herein is love ! Thanks be imto 
 God for His unspeakable gift ! '"' 
 
 Here, then, the question is answered ; the amazing fact, 
 that the High and Lofty One will come and commune with 
 the contrite sinner, is demonstrated. An arch is thrown 
 across the mighty gulf of separation, or rather the gailf itself 
 is filled up, and thus the very means of commmiication be- 
 tween God and man become both the proof and the pledge 
 that it can and shall be maintained. And here, too, as 
 before, we see that the residence of God not only corresponds 
 with His glorious character, hut that it is literally made hy it. 
 For what is it but the sight of that Majesty which produces 
 this humility, prostrating itself and exclaiming, " Now mine 
 eye seeth thee, behold, I am vile ! '' What is it but the sight 
 of that spotless purity which produces the anguish that smites 
 on its breast and exclaims, "God be merciful to me a sinner !'" 
 And oh, that cross — when every other means has failed, how 
 often at the sight of that has obduracy itself dissolved into 
 penitence, and pride put on the sackcloth of humility, and the 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 51 
 
 new creature, taking a survey of all created good, collecting 
 it all together, and then relinquishing the whole, trampling 
 it all in the dust, has exclaimed, " God forbid that I should 
 glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by v/hom 
 the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world 1 '" 
 
 III. 
 
 Now, from this it follows, thirdly, that no religious worship 
 can be acceptable to God, except as it harmonizes with the 
 character of God. Indeed, if this harmony were not neces- 
 sary — if the individual or the Church could obtain access to 
 God without such harmony with His character, it luoidd not, 
 could not conduce to their real advantage. That in which 
 the happiness of our spiritual nature consists must be some- 
 thing congenial to that nature, and something which is 
 capable of imparting itself to that nature. Sensual pleasures 
 cannot do this, they can only touch the grosser elements of 
 our susceptibility, they cannot pass in and penetrate to our 
 interior being, are not subtle enough to blend with our 
 spiritual essence. All the opulence and resources of earth 
 in this respect are indigence itself, leaving us to pine and 
 languish in the midst of plenty. But God, as he is a Spirit, 
 is both congenial with the nature of His spiritual offspring, 
 and is capable of imparting Himself to them, opening to 
 them fresh views of His excellence, awakening in them fresh 
 sensations of delight, breathing into them His own Spirit, 
 making them partakers of the Divine nature. 
 
 But, as we have already intimated — and as, indeed, the 
 text implies — the first question to be considered, when God 
 and man are to be brought together, is, not what is suitable 
 for man, but what is becoming for God. If each party re- 
 quires certain conditions, surely the requirements of the 
 superior nature should be considered before those of the 
 inferior — especially too when that superiority is infinite. 
 Now, if all the diversified forms which religion has ever 
 assumed were to be divided into two classes, it would be 
 
52 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 found that this consideration involves the great principle of 
 their distinction. All the rites, forms, and ceremonies by 
 which the worship of God has been overlaid — all the idolatry 
 of Paganism, and all the corruj^tion of the true religion — all 
 the Phariseeism of the former economy, and all the Popery 
 of the present — have arisen from considering what man 
 would be pleased v/ith, rather than what would be pleasing 
 to God. 
 
 Not, indeed, that God, in the worship which he has pre- 
 scribed, has left our nature unconsidered, or the necessities 
 of that nature unconsulted. The incarnation of the Son of 
 God himself was intended, partl}^ to meet that great want 
 of our compound nature — the want of a palpable definite 
 object on which our imagination could settle, and on which 
 our affections could rest awhile in their upward ascent to 
 God. But then the great difference between God's method 
 of consulting our wants, in this respect, and man's, is that, 
 while man's method detains the mind and prevents it from 
 rising to God, the means which God employs are intended 
 and calculated to lead us on to Him as the end. And the 
 reason of this is that, even in consulting what we require, He 
 has first considered what He himself required. In consulting 
 on the great question of our restoration, He had first to con- 
 sider how He could consistently allov/ it. Man had changed, 
 but Immutability could not alter on that account. Man had 
 transgressed — was the great Lawgiver therefore to repeal His 
 laws, descend from His throne, and abandon His govern- 
 ment ? Man had fallen out of his place, had wandered from 
 his orbit — was the Great Centre of Being therefore to leave 
 His position, and to follow him in his eccentric course? The 
 first thing to be considered was, what was suitable for God to 
 do ? And do you not see that to this it is that Christianity 
 is indebted for all its peculiarity and glory ? that, if it has an 
 atonement, it is because the justice of God required it ? that, 
 if it has a ^lediator between God and man, it is first and 
 chiefly because the holiness of God requires it ? that, if it 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTRITE MAN. 53 
 
 provides tlie agency of the Spirit, it is principally because 
 Divine immntability and perfection recpiire that the sinner 
 should be conformed to God, and not God to the sinner ! 
 And do you not see, do you not with an apostle admire, 
 how He hath abounded towards us in all wisdom and pru- 
 dence, in making one and the same arrangement to answer 
 both the requirements of His own nature and the necessities 
 of ours ? Well for us was it, that He first considered what 
 He Himself required ; since, in providing for that, He has 
 more effectually j^rovided for our necessities than as if he had 
 made them the primary subject of consideration. Well for 
 us is it, that He determined first that He would be a just 
 God, for that has made Him the most glorious Saviour ; that 
 He required an atonement in order to our justification, for 
 that has at the same time provided the most glorious means 
 for our sanctification, and all those cords of love by which 
 He can draw us back again to Himself. 
 
 1. Hence it is, I repeat, that the state of each individual 
 mind, and the collective worship of the Chmxh, can be accept- 
 able to God only as it harmonizes with His character. If 
 supremacy comes here, He expects to behold subordination, 
 and what is that but humility ? He asks not that we should 
 think of ourselves below what we really are, that we should 
 attempt anything like self-annihilation, but simply that we 
 should conform our views to our condition, that we should 
 take that estimate of our character and wants which He 
 Himself entertains. This is the humility of heaven, for 
 himiility does not necessarily and of itself imply a sense ot 
 guilt. Angels are among the most humble of His creatures, 
 for they never lose sight of their entitle dependence on Him. 
 And the greatest example of excellence which earth ever 
 saw, though unstained by a single pollution, could say, " I 
 am meek and lowly of heart.'' But if humility be a virtue 
 among the angels of God, if it was eminently exemplified in 
 the Son of God, how important is it that lue should be 
 hmnble. If they who have no sins to deplore, who are 
 
54j the high and lofty one 
 
 spotless as tlie throne of God, are yet distingnisliecl by 
 humility, how humble should we be who owe our ruin to our 
 pride, who are dependent, not now on goodness merely, but 
 on mercy and long-sufTering, wlio cannot easily think too 
 meanly of ourselves ! 
 
 2. Humility is not enough for man. If they who have 
 never sinned are humble, more than humility must be proper 
 for man — there must be contrition also. Now the text 
 implies this : it intimates that if the High and Holy One 
 comes amongst us, He expects to be received amidst the 
 sighs of penitence and the tears of godly sorrow. A spirit 
 of self-sufficiency and self-dependence has been our ruin; 
 He expects, therefore, that before He begins to do anything 
 towards our j^ersonal recovery, we should be prepared to 
 descend from the pedestal our pride has erected, and should 
 cast ourselves down at His feet. The real value of that 
 humble penitence which He requires, consists in its inducing 
 us to deske and welcome the assistance we need — to abandon 
 ourselves cordially to the Divine direction — to descend, and 
 gratefully to occupy our proper station at His footstool, as 
 pensioners on His grace. There is a sense in which God 
 himself sorrows on account of our sin — and the death of 
 Christ is His expression of that sorrow — the amazing sacri- 
 fice of His only-begotten Son was the only adequate expres- 
 sion of that sorrow. If He comes amongst us, therefore, He 
 expects to find us collected around the Cross — looking upon 
 Him whom we have pierced, and mourning — mingling our 
 tears with His — feeling with Him on the great subject of 
 sin — Avith hearts broken and contrite, and refusing to be 
 healed by any balm but His precious blood, to be bound 
 up by any hand but His, to be made whole by any influ- 
 ence but the distinct and cheering assurance of His forgiving 
 love. 
 
 3. But more — if this voice of mercy is to be heard — if 
 He c(5mes amongst us to address us, He exj)ects that we 
 should tremble at His v»rord — that is, that our hearts should 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 55 
 
 vibrate and respond to every accent Ee utters — that if He 
 says to us, " Seek ye my face," onr hearts should instantly 
 reply, " Thy face, Lord, will we seek." He comes amongst 
 us to reimpress on our hearts tlie heavenly image of Himselt^ 
 which sin had effaced; but if the seal is to impress, the 
 wax must be melted ; and the design of that penitence which 
 He looks for is, that the heart may be softened, and in a 
 state to take the sacred impress of His every feature. Is He 
 absolutely supreme ? — the corresponding impression on our 
 heart must be a most profound self-subjection. Is He infinitely 
 self-sufficient and all-sufncicnt ? — our impression must be 
 that of self-emptiness, disposing us to quit ourselves, and to 
 live in Him. Does He remind us of His holiness? — the 
 emotion answering to that must be .£:odly soitow afc the per- 
 ception of our unlikeness to Him, and earnest desires for His 
 transforming spirit. Faithfulness in Him must be answered 
 by trust in us. Grace in Him must be answered by grati- 
 tude, love, and obedience in us. Every excellence in His 
 character must be ansv\^ered by a corresponding excellence 
 in ours. 
 
 But if the very perfection of His nature makes this corre- 
 spondence necessary, so also, do the wants and the well-being 
 of our nature. Everything in creation trembles and responds 
 to the voice of God but the stony heart of man ; and the 
 welfare of everything depends on its power thus to respond. 
 " The Lord," says the Psalmist, " uttereth His voice, the 
 earth trembles and shakes " — inanimate nature involuntarily 
 replies to His every word. And who has not felt the power 
 of even human melody to move the heart ? Who has not 
 seen or read of an entire audience moved like the heart of 
 one man, while listening to some soul-subduing strain — now 
 melting to tears — now ready to shout with ecstasy — now 
 lifted to heaven — now prostrate in the dust — as the character 
 of the strain was changed ? The voice of God is the music 
 of heaven, the primary and parent sound of the universe ; 
 and shall the words of a man that hath a pleasant voice, and 
 
56 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 that playetli well on an instrument, exert a power and yield 
 a pleasure greater than that of His gracious voice ? The 
 ear of the himible has been opened to catch its softest 
 tones; the heart of the contrite has been subdued by its 
 melting power. All other harmony but reminds him of this. 
 Its slightest tone of wrath would dissolve him with dread — 
 its still small voice of love thrills him with delight. To be 
 able to hear and to appreciate the music of His gracious 
 voice, is to antedate the happiness of heaven. Nay, the 
 heart of the Christian is itself become an instrument of 
 temj^le-music in the service of God. 
 
 What is the created universe but one mighty chorus for 
 His praise? Everything that hath breath is exliorted and 
 expected to praise the Lord. And the effect of evangelical 
 humility is, that it prepares the heart which had hitherto sul- 
 lenly refused to join, and had uttered only sounds of discord, 
 to take its station, and add its voice to the general song. His 
 first sigh of penitence blends with the harps of heaven. His 
 first prayer for mercy is the tuning of the heart for an endless 
 song. His first burst of gratitude is only a preluding note 
 for eternity. He would place his heart as a harp in the hand 
 of God, to vibrate and tremble at His touch alone. If the 
 lano'uao-e to which he listens is uttered in accents of threat- 
 ening, he would tremble with holy dread — if in accents of 
 love and promise, he would thrill with hope and vibrate with 
 joy. Whatever the character of the sacred strain may be, 
 his first desire, his highest pleasure is, to feel a corresponding 
 emotion — to surrender his heart to the heavenly impulse. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And then, fourthly, the subject intimates that all human 
 instrumentality, in the service of God, depends for its effi- 
 ciency on the same condition — that of harmony with the 
 Divine character. This, indeed, is true of man's instru- 
 mentahty in the j^hysical world. Even here we originate 
 nothing. We only avail ourselves of the laws wliich God has 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 57 
 
 appointed — laws wliicli are already in operation. "VYe may- 
 talk poetically and proudly of the empire of science, and of 
 science chaining the elements to its chariot wheels ; but just 
 as true is it that the elements chain man himself to their 
 wheels. He can move only as they move. If " knowledge 
 is power/' it is only the knowledge of their laws and forces. 
 For this knowledge he has patiently to wait, perseveringiy 
 to solicit ; and having discovered it, he has humbly to follow 
 in the direction which it j)rescribes. To think of prescribing 
 to it woidd only teach him his impotence and convict him 
 of folly. 
 
 But that which is only lolly in the material world, in the 
 spiritual world becomes crimson with guilt. That which in 
 our own house might pass for mere inconsideration, in His 
 house becomes avowed rebellion. There, secondary causes 
 or means are more apparent; here, the great First Cause 
 himself appears. There, the hand of human instrumentality 
 is seen ; here. He makes bare His own arm; and to put that 
 aside, or to substitute anything in its stead, is to ofier Him 
 an indignity of the deepest die. To overlook His arrange- 
 ments, indeed, in the natural world, and to act as if we could 
 do without them, is to put an affront en the power, and 
 wisdom, and goodness they display. But here, besides His 
 pov/er, and wisdom, and goodness, here His grace reigns — 
 here His glory is enshrined — here, to use the emphatic 
 language of inspiration, here His honour dwelleth — His 
 honour, for which he is jealous — His honour, for the exhibi- 
 tion of which the universe exists, for the vindication of 
 which that universe is ever armed and ready. An insignifi- 
 cant creature like man values his honour above his life — 
 deems it insulted by a look, tarnished by a breath, and 
 freely lavishes his blood to redeem it. But the honour of the 
 High and Lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is 
 Holy, who shall speak of that but with the proioundest reve- 
 rence ? And yet here it is not only to be spoken of, it is 
 to be magnified. Yes, wonderful as the truth may appear. 
 
58 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 it is actually committed to our hands to be briglitened and 
 displayed. The highest angel has not a greater charge, a 
 more sacred trust committed to him than this. But do you 
 not see how the trust is to be discharged? As He is the 
 great inhabitant of eternity, the first and only efficient Cause, 
 He comes to see if you who assemble here are arrogantly 
 asj^iring to be a cause also. Oh ! let Him see that you are 
 content to rank as an effect, to take the humble position of 
 an instrument in His hands, and He will count Himself 
 honom-ed. As He is the First, He comes to see if you are 
 practically acknowledging Him to be the Last also, or whe- 
 ther you are seeking to be your own end ; let Him see you 
 content to occupy the relation of means to His glory as the 
 end, and He will count Himself honoured. Is He the prime 
 mover of all spiritual activity ? Let Him see you, not acting as 
 if you could originate an instrumentality of your own, but 
 linking on all your machinery to His agency, evincing a deep 
 conviction that if anything you do moves, and moves in 
 the right direction, it must be, not by might, nor by power, 
 but by His Spirit as the moving cause. Is He the great 
 source of spiritual usefulness and success? He will come to 
 see if He can trust you with success, or if you are likely to 
 appropriate the honour of that success to yourselves, and 
 thus rob Him of the glory. Let Him see you, on every fresh 
 instance of prosj)erity, taking it to His footstool — hastening 
 to cast it as a crown at His feet — casting yourselves there, 
 and exclaiming, " Not unto us, God, not unto us, but unto 
 Thy name be all the glory.'' Is He the High and Lofty One? 
 As such. He occupies a height which gives Him a purchase 
 over the universe. He can raise His intelligent creatures to 
 as lofty a point as their natures can bear; but, then, if they 
 would be lifted up, they must be found in the place and the 
 attitude which He prescribes. Let Him see you in that 
 place and that moral attitude — lying low, i^rostrate at His 
 footstool. He that so humbleth himself shall be exalted. Is 
 His very name "Holy''? As such, He hath provided and set 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTRITE MAN. 59 
 
 forth a propitiation to take away sin ; for till tliat is removed 
 He cannot commune with us; and He comes to see if His 
 ministers are settmg forth that propitiation also, or if they 
 have thrown a covering over it to conceal it. Yes, the first 
 object which He here looks for is the altar of the cross, and 
 what is on it, and whether it occupies a central and conspi- 
 cuous place. He comes as a hearer — listens to the prayer — 
 for there is but one plea which prevails with Him; listens 
 to the sermon — for it is not enough that the discourse be not 
 opposed to His Word. The apostle reminds us that even 
 the book of the covenant — the Bible — was sprinkled with 
 blood, and so must be every discourse derived from it. Every 
 house of God should, in this respect, be an epitome of His 
 universal empire — in that the atonement is the centre around 
 which all His purposes revolve; and here the cross should 
 form the great central object, about which everything else 
 shoidd circulate and be sprinkled with its blood. As His 
 name is Holy, He has provided the agency of the Holy Spirit, 
 and He comes here to impart and infuse it; let Him see 
 every high thought and imagination cast down, and find you 
 panting, languishing for His Spirit as those who feel they 
 must perish without it. As the Holy One, He comes to see 
 if the proud heart is humbled — if the sinful heart is contrite 
 — if the hard and insensible heart begins to quiver with 
 sensibility and to tremble at His word. Yes, said the Sa- 
 viour, " the Father seeketh such to worship Him." How rare 
 must they be, that He should have to seek them ! What a 
 value must He set on them, that He should deign to seek 
 them! And He does value them — they are the only objects 
 on earth which He does value — His only real worshippers; 
 all besides are His enemies — labouring to do without Him 
 — in open or disguised hostility against Him. He comes to 
 His house, therefore, seeking such to serve Him. Yes, He 
 comes here ; and shall He be disappointed? He is approaching 
 now — He is come — He standeth at the door. This is His 
 own impressive representation of Himself, — "Behold/' saith 
 
60 THE HIGH AKD LOFTY ONE 
 
 He, " I stand at the door, and knock/' Who can imagine 
 the scene of His entrance here without deep emotion? 
 
 Suppose, in conchision, then — suppose that something 
 like it were now to take phice ; that now, while we are thus 
 assembled, meditating on the love, the condescension, the 
 grace of Christ, the Divine Eedeemer were to a2)proach, 
 and, by some undoubted sign, were to signify His arrival, 
 and His desire to enter. How should we prepare to receive 
 him ? What searchings of heart would there be ! W^hat 
 looks of anxiety exchanged ! Unconverted, prayerless man, 
 what could we say to you, but beseech you in few and fervid 
 accents to be reconciled to God ? And what could you do, 
 but fall down and cry for mercy ? or if your heart were too 
 hard even for this, what could you do but complain of its 
 hardness, and entreat that it might be broken, bruised, and 
 changed into a heart of flesh ? And you who seem to be 
 passing, and have long seemed to be passing, from death 
 unto life, what could you do but lament your indecision, and 
 place your trembling heart before him, and cry, "Create 
 within me a clean heart, God, and renew within me a 
 right spirit '' ? And you who have done this already, what 
 could you do but act on the conviction that the sacrifices of 
 God are a broken spirit, and receive Him in the attitude of 
 devout and humble prostration ? Oh, what an attractive 
 spectacle would such an assembly present ! How effectually 
 would it be prepared for His admission ! With what Divine 
 complacency would His eye survey the blessed scene ! And 
 as it glanced from one to another, and saw that each breast 
 was bared for His inspection, each soul emptied and prepared 
 for His reception, each heart a bleeding sacrifice, each bosom 
 pining for His grace, enlarging itself for His recej^tion, 
 inviting Him to enter and take entire possession ; and as 
 His countenance beamed and brightened with love, who 
 would not feel that the windows of heaven were about to be 
 opened — that a time of refreshiDg had come, the hapj^y 
 results of which it was impossible to foretell ! True, His own 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 61 
 
 declaration in the text would lead us to expect great things, 
 for He engages " to revive the spirit of the humble, and to 
 revive the heart of the contrite ones " — to issue the procla- 
 mation, " Peace, peace to him that is afar off, and to him 
 that is near ; and I will heal him, saith the Lord/' But He 
 exceeds His promises. Every broken heart would be bound 
 uj), every wounded spirit made whole, every prostrate soul 
 would be raised — the whole would be cheered and revived 
 by a heavenly current of vital influence from the Fountain of 
 life itself 
 
 Brethren, the Majesty of heaven has entered, and is here. 
 Why should not this assembly present to His eye the aspect 
 we have described — welcome His arrival, and receive His 
 blessing ? Motives are not wanting. Think hoiu He ivould 
 count Himself honoured. And is that nothing ? " Here," 
 He would say — '' here will I dwell, for I have desired it ; in 
 the world at large I meet only with foes— but here are my 
 friends; there my every claim is disputed — here they are 
 enthroned ; there everything is pervaded by a spirit of hostile 
 self-sufficiency — here every idol is abolished, every rival cast 
 out, every weapon of hostility laid aside, and the Cross is 
 triumphant. This is the place of my rest ; here there is no 
 symptom of resistance, or even of indifference— here every 
 look is adoration, every attitude submission, every heart a 
 vessel empty to receive my grace. Here will I rest ; here 
 can I be as merciful and gracious as I please — here solace 
 myself with blessing, and receive nothing but adoration and 
 praise in return." 
 
 Think of the example of Christ in this respect— the entire 
 harmony of His character with the character of God consti- 
 tutes the very heart of His example. He had a will of His 
 own, as distinct from the will of the Father as His person 
 was distinct ; but though distinct, it was not different, or at 
 variance with it. The highest ef!brt of His own will was to 
 do that supreme will. His human nature was consecrated 
 as a temple for the enthronement of that will. His cross 
 
62 THE HIGH AND LOFTY ONE 
 
 owes all its j^ower to its entire harmony with that will. On 
 the same account it is that God also hath highly exalted 
 Him — for He now reigns in the same spirit in which He 
 suffered — His throne is just as much in a line with the will 
 of God, and in harmony with it, as His cross was. And 
 this spirit of subordination, I say, constitutes the very heart 
 of the example which He hath left us. We must place our- 
 selves in harmony with His cross, be content to be as humble 
 as the consciousness of our guilt can make us, as contrite as 
 the sight of the cross can render us. 
 
 Thmk, too, of the haj^piness of such a state of mind. 
 " There is no peace to the wicked, saith my God.'' Out of 
 harmony with God, everything is at discord with them — is 
 against them. The troubled sea, ever restless and labouring 
 without an object, and turbid with its own agitation, is the 
 appropriate figure by which the prophet, in the context, 
 describes the restlessness of the wicked. There is but one 
 spot in the universe where the creature can find rest — at tlio 
 feet of God. Brought back to that position, everything is at 
 peace with him, for he himself is at peace with God. There 
 he first finds rest — enjoys the exquisite satisfaction of con- 
 fessing himself nothing, that God may be all — of going out 
 of himself, and losing himself in God — of finding his heaven 
 in the smile of God ! 
 
 And what would this be but a foretaste of millennial bliss 
 — an ejoitome of heaven itself 1 For when the design of the 
 whole Gospel constitution shall be answered, what will the 
 result be but that no flesh shall be found to glory in His 
 presence — that everything sliall be seen in harmony with 
 His character, and redounding to the glory of His grace ! 
 The only change will be, that having dwelt with the humble 
 and contrite on earth. He will then translate them to dwell 
 with Him in heaven ; that as they once accorded to Him his 
 proper glory, then they will be admitted to behold His glory, 
 and to enjoy it. 
 
 By our regard, then, for the glory of God, for the example 
 
DWELLING WITH THE CONTEITE MAN. 63 
 
 of Christ, for our present peace and our future blessedness, 
 let us, as if He were now visibly present, bow down our 
 hearts before Him. " Oh, come let us worship and fall down, 
 let us kneel before the Lord our Maker ! " Let us surrender, 
 let us place our hearts before Him, let us entreat Him to 
 dwell with vs; and whatever we possess which can be made 
 to subserve His glory, let us entreat Him to sprinkle it witli 
 cleansing, consecrating blood, and to make it entirely His. 
 
64i THE CONDESCENDIKG GOD. 
 
 SEKMON IIL 
 
 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 2 CilRON. vi. 18 — " But will God in very deed dwell with men on the 
 earth? Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contam thee ; 
 how much less this house which I have built !" 
 
 There are views of God wliicli make the mind swoon and 
 sink. Such are conceiDtions of tliat power whose mere voli- 
 tions are acts, and of tliat knowledge to which there is neither 
 past nor future, in our sense of the terms, and of that dura- 
 tion which knows nothing of succession, measurement, or 
 date. These are subjects of which the strongest mind can 
 only get a momentary glimpse. To see them is to stagger 
 and fall. It is to look over the edge of a precipice where 
 the mind sees no footing, nothing but a bottomless abyss, 
 and can only cry out, with the apostle, ".0 the depth ! " 
 There are scriptural events, too, which captivate the mind as 
 often as they are thought of — the birth of light, the drowning 
 of the world, the giving of the Law, And there have been 
 suhUme situations in which man stood for God, or was in- 
 vested with a portion of His majesty ; as when Moses held 
 back the arm of God from destroying Israel, and when he 
 was seen coming down from the mount with God's law- 
 tables in his hands, and God's radiance resting on his face. 
 
 At the opening of the Jewish temple, in the utterance of 
 the text, these three elements of interest, the sentiment, the 
 event, and the situation, were all combined. A sensuous 
 unreflectiiii? mind might have been most taken w"tli the 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 65 
 
 mere accessories of that august scene; for there was a nation 
 present to witness the solemnity, a temjDle of which the plan 
 had come from heaven, the pomp and procession of the 
 priests as they slowly marched with the sacred ark through 
 the courts and up the steps to " the holiest of all," the roll 
 and swell of the music as the ark advanced, the sudden pause 
 which told the waiting nation that the ark had reached its 
 resting-place, the slow descent of the Shekinah, a cloud of 
 dusky splendour which filled the house, and the instant 
 prostration of the priests before that awful symbol of the 
 Divine presence. Doubtless all this was impressive, and was 
 meant to impress. But it was when the king, trembling 
 with the conscious grandeur of his position, ascended the 
 brazen platform, and spread forth his hands in prayer, that 
 the scene became most impressive ; it was when his mind 
 caught for a moment a view of God's immensity and con- 
 descension, and staggered under the weight of the sentiment, 
 that the scene became most spiritual ; and when, in that 
 grand intercessory act, he was seen connecting earth with 
 heaven, and the cloud came doviTi and met his ascending 
 prayer, it was then that he rose to the highest point of true 
 sublimity, and prefigured the ofiice of Him who " ever liveth 
 to make intercession for us.'' God help us, though we look 
 for no visible cloud of glory — God help us so to enter into the 
 sentiment of the text as to desire and be prepared for a mani- 
 festation of the Divine presence appropriate to this service. 
 
 I. 
 
 And, first, let me call your attention to the fact of the 
 Divine greatness ; because it is only in the view of that that 
 we can be prepared to appreciate the Divine condescension. 
 " Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain 
 thee I" 1. What a view have we here of the immensity of 
 God ! We ourselves are among the stars, careering through 
 space, myriads of miles distant now from where we were at 
 the beginning of the service, but though perpetually changing 
 
66 THE COXDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 our place in the universe, ever surrounded by His presence, 
 and enclosed by His essence. And could we speed our way 
 to scenes beyond all that eye has explored, or even thought 
 has reached, what should surprise us there to behold creations 
 in process — new worlds taking their appointed place — sudden 
 manifestations of the present God ! But even the limits of 
 the created universe are no limits to Him. There, where no 
 wing has yet sped, no creative fiat yet taken effect, where all 
 is silence, solitude, and awful gloom, God is already present. 
 And could we imagine ourselves to be even there, what 
 should surprise us to behold some token of the Shekinah — 
 some vision of the present God ? " Whither shall I go from 
 thy Spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? " The 
 heaven of heavens cannot contain Him, but He himself con- 
 tains and is the place of all being. Infinite space is but the 
 dark background on which He is ever writing out His un- 
 finished and unutterable name in characters of living light. 
 Immensity is but His temple, and at any moment He could 
 fill and flood the whole with glory. 
 
 2. Equally awful is God's relation to duration, or His 
 eternity. Mentally, I can construct a bridge of stars to take 
 me back — I can imagine that each of the countless stars was 
 formed in succession, and that myriads of ages elapsed 
 between the formation of each ; but if my mind could span 
 the sum of all those myriads, could dart back a thought to 
 the moment when the first star beamed on the regions of 
 space, I should feel that I had only reached the starting-point 
 for the preceding eternity — I should feel that that star of 
 which I had caught a glimpse could only be regarded as the 
 first lamp that was lighted up to guide the way back to His 
 dread abode. But I can transport myself still farther back. 
 Passhig the limits of the created, I can think myself back 
 into the presence of the Unseen and Eternal, feel inyself there 
 alone. And oh! with what additional dreadfulness is the 
 majesty of this darkness invested when I remember that it is 
 the majesty of solitude. He has inhabited this eternity alone. 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 67 
 
 Never has tliis stillness been broken. No ray of created liglit 
 lias ever beamed across this darkness. This boundless space 
 has never owned a world. No seraph bows before His throne. 
 Whatever is, is God. Yet, after all, I quit the awful scene 
 with the humbling conviction that, far, far back as I have 
 gone, I have made no approach whatever to the understanding 
 of His eternity. 
 
 3. Here is also a recognition of God's infinite supremacy ; 
 for "the heaven of heavens" is the region of angelic blessed- 
 ness, and the Uncontainable fills and overflows even that. 
 Could v/e scale that height — could v/e ascend and obtain a 
 view of those thrones towerino; above thrones, and, havino: 
 reached an unknoAvn height, could we then see others loftier 
 still, stretching avv^ay beyond our fuitlicst sight, what should 
 we see, after all, but a fev/ of the lowest of the steps which 
 lead up to His throne ? He speaks, and the most exalted of 
 the principalities look up to Him, and feel that there is but 
 One High and Lofty; that, compared vrith Him, all created 
 height is His footstool, all other dignity seated in the dust. 
 He looks on them, and they feel that " He humbleth himself 
 to behold the things that are in heaven/' Lofty as their 
 natures and countless as their myriads may be, there is a 
 sense in which He must ever continue to dAvell as perfectly 
 alone through the eternity to come, as He did in the sublime 
 and appalling solitude of the eternity j^ast. He still inhabiteth 
 eternity. It is the only habitation which suits His infinite 
 greatness. He can never come forth from it, so as to bring 
 Himself within created limits. On account of His incom- 
 parable greatness. He will never be able to bring Himself 
 within the comprehension of His loftiest creatures. Retired 
 within the depths of His own immensity, they will never be 
 able to approach and behold Him dii-ectly. For all they 
 know of Him, they will ever feel that they are indebted to a 
 medium of His oavu devising, and that, without that glorious 
 medium, the whole created universe, including themselves, 
 would only have constituted a living altar, with this inscrijo- 
 
G8 THE CONDESCEIS^DING GOD. 
 
 tion, " To the unknown god." And after they shall have 
 continued to advance through interminable ages from throne 
 to throne, and from one height of glory to a higher still, the 
 loftiest summit will only give them a more enlarged and 
 commanding prospect of His boundless perfection. 
 
 11. 
 
 And will this Uncontainable Being actually manifest Him- 
 self to man — limit and localize His manifestation — bring 
 Himself into relations of time and space — "dwell with man 
 on the earth?'' Here is, secondly, the fact of the Divine 
 condescension. The question, "AYill He do so?" is the lan- 
 guage, not of doubt, but of astonishment, and may suggest 
 what a world of speculation there would have been on the 
 subject, had it been left to mere conjecture. But all such 
 conjecture is now extinguished by the fact. 
 
 And here be it remarked there was but one religion in 
 the ancient world that knew anything of a condescending 
 God — but one — -the Jewish. The so-called gods of Olympus 
 could be mean, intriguing, self-debasing; but they had it not 
 in their power to condescend. Morally, they had no height 
 from which they coidd stoop. But the history of the Divine 
 conduct, as recorded in the Bible, had been, from the first, 
 a history of condescension — of acts by which He had been 
 training the human mind to look higher and yet higher for 
 His throne, in order that man might be able to feel His 
 condescension in stooping from that height to this depth. 
 And so well had the eye of the Psalmist been trained to this 
 heavenward gaze, that, looking up through all the ascending 
 ranks of idol-gods and the loftier hierarchies of heaven, he 
 saw the throne of God immeasurably beyond, and sublimely 
 sang, " Who is like unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on 
 high; who humbleth himself to behold the things that are in 
 heaven and in the earth?" 
 
 Look back to God's first act of condescension. Sin might 
 have produced eternal silence; the Almighty might have 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 69 
 
 withdrawn and enclosed Himself for ever within the depths of 
 His everlasting dwelling-j^lace. Yet it was to man the sinner 
 that He took the first step in His career of condescension by 
 speaking to him. He broke the fearful silence which sin 
 had produced, and which might have lasted for ever; and 
 every accent He uttered was an accent of love. He went on 
 addressing us, adding promise after promise, and opening, 
 every time He spoke, fresh views of His excellence, and 
 furnishing additional proofs of His condescension. 
 
 Time rolled on; and though the depravity and guilt of 
 man went on increasing, there comes before us in the text 
 another stage in the Divine regard. He appoints a ];)lace for 
 the symbol of His presence to dv\^ell in, and where man might 
 be always welcome to approach and commune with Him. 
 This was a vast advance in the condescension of God. It 
 seemed to say that His love for man knew no limits; it 
 seemed to place earth in the very neighbourhood of heaven. 
 But amazing as was this stoop of mercy, it was literally 
 true. There, through a long succession of ages. He con- 
 tinued to meet with His peoj^le, and to commune with them 
 from off the mercy-seat. There Penitence often smote upon 
 its breast till its tears were wij)ed away. There conscious 
 Guilt lost its tormenting sting and first found j)eace. Fear 
 lifted up its eye and smiled. Faith looked up in the face of 
 God as it stood with its hand on the head of the victim. 
 There prophets, and kings, and the righteous men of many 
 nations bowed down in prayer and found that which they 
 sought — acceptance with God. 
 
 And has not this, we might have said, exhausted the proofs 
 of the Divine condescension? All this, astonishing as it 
 was, was only preliminary. What if He should take our 
 nature and make a temple of that ! This, indeed, was an act 
 beyond human conception. What! will God in very deed 
 dwell with man — as man — ujoon the earth? " Great, indeed, 
 is the mystery of godliness. God was manifest in the flesh I" 
 Yes, by a mysterious act, He took our nature into union 
 
«kH^ 
 
 sniHr. 
 
 osr^ires. Tteis &e mmosi 
 
 -"'zny 
 
 ~:7- _ 7 -Brays." T«i _. , . . ". ;___: c>i 
 £1 — -^z HZAirrofGod. ^:- -e seen, and 
 :L c*f His : 3^ -^ teait 
 - TPii - - — " TT^ 
 
 Tt u 
 
 :f God. Bmk iMOfw ii 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 71 
 
 beforehand — will Gocl in very deed do this? Por the 
 creation of the imiverse, vast as it is, might be infinitely en- 
 larged and eiidlessly repeated, and still it would be less hy 
 infinity than the j^ower which jDroduced it. This itself, 
 therefore, is condescension infinite — the condescension of His 
 power — in the sublime language of Scripture, "the hiding 
 of his power ;'' not so much its display as its concealment. 
 And then that, having made creatures. He should vouchsafe 
 to be called supreme in relation to such creatures — to beings 
 the highest of whom is by necessity of nature infinitely below 
 Him — to stoop to such grandeur is itself condescension. 
 And then that He should submit to be worshipped — wor- 
 shipped by beings who will never be able fully to compre- 
 hend Him, never be able to think of more than one part of 
 His character at a time, or of one illustration of one part, so 
 that at the very moment when they are most lost in admira- 
 tion by thinking of that one, all the other myriad illustra- 
 tions of His character will be unthought of ; and after they 
 shall have been enlarging their conceptions of His glory for 
 m3rriads of years, that they should still have to remember 
 that what they then know of Him is as nothing compared 
 with what remains to be kno^vn of Him ! 
 
 But all this, a man might say — much as it enlarges my 
 views of the Divine condescension — all this I can believe. It 
 relates only to His natural greatness. Low and limited as 
 His creatures may be, they are not as yet supposed to have 
 revolted, sinned. But what if, after condescending to make 
 a creature, that creature should labour to unmake himself, or 
 to make himself something essentially diff'ering from what he 
 was ? What if, after condescending to allow Himself to be 
 worshipped, that creature should refuse to worship Him — 
 should worship other objects even in His very presence — 
 worship himself rather — should labour to forget Hnr, and, 
 failing in that, should fill with enmity against Him — what 
 could be expected then ? what could condescension itself do 
 in such a case ? 
 
72 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 What miglit have taken i^lace we know ; and it is that 
 which makes what He has done so amazing. Here the real 
 wonder begins. That he should have stooped to ask for a 
 hearing in a world filled with the noisy praises of itself and 
 its idols ; that amidst that din, He, the Uncontainable One, 
 should have deigned to republish the forgotten fact of His 
 own existence ; that He whose heaven is one vast temple, 
 sacred throughout to His worship), should command the 
 erection of a house upon earth, where he knew that idolatry 
 would come up to His very doors, and even obtrude into His 
 presence; and that then, when the crisis required, when 
 justice requu-ed the sinner himself or a substitute, that that 
 substitute should have been found in the person of " God 
 manifest in the flesh" — that the Invisible himself should have 
 assumed a material form — that the Supreme should in any 
 sense have become subordinate, voluntarily placing Himself 
 at the bar of justice in our stead, inviting the stroke which 
 should have fallen upon us, bowing His head, and becoming 
 obedient unto death ; this is a scale of voluntary condescen- 
 sion in which we behold Him stooping lower and lower still, 
 till He has reached a point where even inspiration stands lost 
 in wonder, and can find relief only in adoring exclamations — 
 exclamations which are among the most welcome parts of 
 the Word of God, because they relieve the fulness of the bur- 
 dened heart — " Herein is love !" " Thanks be unto God for 
 His unspeakable gift I" 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, fourthly, this wonderfulness of the Divine condescen- 
 sion is no valid objection to its reality and truth. This is 
 the very gist of the text, that, amazing as the conception is, 
 it is yet a fact. 1. Let us not be told by a 2~>retendcd philo- 
 sophy that such a Divine interposition is out of all propor- 
 tion to man's importance in the universe. This is to assume 
 that all other worlds are inhabited. But why so? If there 
 is an infinitude of space unoccupied by any world, may not 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 73 
 
 tlie coimtlcss worlds be unoccupied by any inlialjitants ? But 
 let us grant them to be inhabited ; the objection unwar- 
 rantably assumes that the Divine manifestation here must 
 have prevented displays of the Divine presence elsewhere. 
 Whereas, for aught we know to the contrary, at the very 
 moment when the cloud of glory was descending on Mount 
 Zion — at the very period of the incarnation — difterent displays, 
 but disi^lays. equally suited to their different spheres, may 
 have been taking place in distant parts of the universe. The 
 objection rashly assumes, fmther, that the incarnation of the 
 Son of God can have no relation to any other part of the 
 universe ; for if it have, the objection fails. His relation to 
 oiu" world, indeed, will ahvays be specific and unique. But 
 we can conceive of no world to which His incarnation and 
 death for the redemption of our fallen race can be made 
 loiown, without having their views of God enlarged, and their 
 motives to holiness increased. As an affair of moral govern- 
 ment, it is fraught with interest for all the subjects of God's 
 univei^al empire. As an illustration of the Divine charac- 
 ter, it contains a grand promise and prediction of unknown 
 good for all the futurity of duration. The planetary insig- 
 nificance of the earth, the very circumstance which man 
 makes a reason for disbelieving it, may be an element invest- 
 ing it, in the eyes of other worlds, with transcendent interest. 
 They may behold in it only a further illustration of the prin- 
 ciple on which God uniformly acts, of " choosing the things 
 which are not to bring to nought things that are.'' They may 
 see in it a designed intimation that there is no world, how- 
 ever insignificant — no islet in space, however remote — which 
 shall not be filled with His glory. Once they might have 
 been ready to ask, " Can any good thing come out of man's 
 Nazareth, the earth ?" And the Divine reply may have 
 vibrated through far-off realms of creation, " And thou, 
 earth, though thou be least among the thousands of the sky, 
 the Bethlehem of space, yet out of thee shall He come forth 
 who shall be ruler over all, whose goings forth have been 
 
74 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 from of old, from everlastiiig." The Cross shall have the 
 universe for its settin.oj. From it rays of glory shall stream 
 forth to the highest heaven and to the furthest space. This 
 loftiest display of love shall be the central object for the eyes 
 of all — " the Lamb in the midst of the throne/' 
 
 2. Neither let a mock humility pretend that such con- 
 descension is too great for man's belief Under the plea of 
 his own littleness, man presumes to prescribe it to Infinite 
 Greatness. Feigning unworthiness to lie at the Divine foot- 
 stool, he yet ascends the throne, and usurps the prerogative 
 of Supremacy. He confesses to be not worthy of a Divine 
 thought, but he assumes to be capable of deciding what the 
 thoughts of the Infinite should be. His objection is, that the 
 means of mercy are too vast for man to believe. The reply 
 is — God's own reply — that they are not too vast for God to 
 employ. '' For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so 
 are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than 
 your thoughts.^ The right point of view, then, is not from 
 the dust in which man is lying, but from the throne on which 
 God is sitting. The reason of the Vv^hole is in God. 
 
 Do you not see then, that, wanting in wonderfulness, the 
 Divine manifestation would have been wanting in analogy 
 with creation and providence — wanting in the very means of 
 authentication as a Divine act. It only stands in a line with 
 other wonders. But the end to be obtained by it is incom- 
 parably greater. Creation and providence are but introduc- 
 tory and preparatory to it. He who brought forth the 
 patriarch from his tent on the j^lains of Mamre, and said, 
 " Look now towards heaven, and tell the stars if thou be able 
 to number them,'' and added, " So shall thy seed be," may 
 be regarded as saying to us, " Survey the magnitude of the 
 material universe, and let the impression of my power, which 
 the spectacle is calculated to produce, prepare you to expect 
 a corresponding display of my love." And is not this im- 
 mensity of love what man needs ? Tell me not of the vast- 
 ness of the universe. Man can be satisfied with nothing less 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 75 
 
 than the God of the universe. Give him time, and he will 
 si^end this said universe ; give him time, and he will exliaust 
 it world by world, and will ''cry out for the living God;'' and 
 the Divine manifestation in Christ is God's method of giving 
 Himself to man, by first entering into his condition and giving 
 Himself /o?^ man. 
 
 3. Nor let the mere formalist limit the disjDlays of Divine 
 condescension to the jmst. He is horrified at the impiety 
 ^7hich doubts whether God has been manifest at all, but is 
 quite content that He should manifest himself no lono-er. 
 The ordinances of religion are with him memorials of past, 
 rather than means of present grace — tombs rather than 
 f-emples. True, God has been in the past, and will be in the 
 future, as we do not look for Him in the present. Looking 
 back, Shekinah and vision are there, miracle, prophecy, and 
 inspiration, an incarnate Saviour, and a descending Spirit. 
 We expect not now a repetition of such scenes. Looking 
 forwards, we regard the future as stored with supernatural 
 events. There lie the mystic scenes portended by the last 
 vials of Apocalyptic vision. And there, in the dark back- 
 groimd, are seen to loom the awful grandeurs of the second 
 commg. And are not many of us living on our faith in that 
 past and that future, rather than on our faith in a present 
 God ? Like the servants in the parable, whose lord had gone 
 away into a far country, have we not often the feeling that 
 our Lord is, in some sense, absent from us? and are we not 
 too ready practically to adjust and resign ourselves to the 
 idea? The complaint is, not that we make too much of any 
 one part of Divine truth, not that we make too much of its 
 history of the past, or of its predictions of the future, but 
 that we too much slight its promises made to the present. 
 God was in the history, He ivill he in the proj^hecy, but He 
 is in the promise — " A God near at hand, and not afar off." 
 " Wherever tvv^o or three are gathered together in my name, 
 there am I in the midst of them." The history and the 
 prophecy are only for limited times, the promise is for all 
 
"76 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 time, large as the heart of God, and the fullest utterance of 
 it. The history tells me only what God has done, and the 
 prophecy what He ivill do; but the promise tells me what 
 He might do — do, if the restraints which onr want of prayer 
 and faith impose were all cast off — do, if He might but " make 
 bare His arm'' — do, if we would but accept the challenge of 
 His grace. " Prove me now,'' saitli the Lord. 
 
 And is not every truly Christian Church a proof that the 
 manifestation of God is still in process, and His condescen- 
 sion unabated ? Wonderful as that condescension is, they 
 can dispense with dl\ formal j)YOoi of it. They can no more 
 doubt their own experience, than Solomon coidd doubt that 
 he saw the descending Shekinah. And as often as they 
 enjoy " times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord," 
 tliey are seized afresh with holy amazement that He should 
 unveil His presence to them, should even call them into His 
 high and holy service. And yet He does this. And He does 
 it in a manner as if He were really dependent on om^ services. 
 For He not only calls us. He urges and entreats, and even 
 offers to reward us, thouQ-h we can never be otherwise than 
 unprofitable servants. If we neglect His first invitations, He 
 repeats them ; if we faint in His service. He supports and 
 encourages us ; if v/e decline from His service, He follows 
 and brings us back to it again. He stoops to do that which 
 we should count it a deoradation to do to a fellow-man. He 
 reminds us that angels are bur fellow-servants, calls us co- 
 workers together with Himself, even engages to applaud us 
 at last in the face of the universe with a " Well done, good 
 and faithful servants." Can we doubt, then, that God docs 
 dwell with man upon the earth ? We believe even that, as 
 the result of this amazing condescension, man — penitent, re^ 
 newed, sanctified man — ^^vill go to dwell with God in heaven. 
 
 V. 
 
 What then, fifthly, are tlie means of securing the Divine 
 presence, and the eniotions suitable to it ? Tell me, if you 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 77 
 
 can, a more important inquiry than this. Were our men of 
 science to be assured that the atmosphere here, in this place, 
 contained some subtle element nowhere else to be found, an 
 element unique, mysterious, capable of the most extensive 
 application, and certain of immortalizing whoever might 
 succeed in discovering it, what untiring efforts would be 
 made to elicit it ! No number of failures would induce them 
 to desist. No apparatus would be deemed too costly to insure 
 success. To develop, to analyze, and to apply it, would be 
 the cheerful occupation of their life. Or, were there some 
 one spot on this wide earth where the Divine Presence was 
 seen — the earth's holiest of all — where whoever entered 
 heard the voice of God, saw coruscations of His glory, 
 slept only to have celestial visions, and awoke only to feel 
 that all around was instinct with the Divine Presence — who 
 would not make a pilgrimage thither, however remote, and 
 what a profound satisfaction would be felt, though life should 
 be half spent in reaching it ! 
 
 Brethren, that pilgrimage would end only in disappoint- 
 ment if the sacred precincts were entered with an unprejmred 
 heart ; and with a prepared heart the pilgrimage is unneces- 
 sary. The Presence we seek is "not hidden from us, neither 
 is it far off. It is not in heaven, that we should say, Wlio 
 will go up for us to heaven, and bring it to us ? Neither is 
 it beyond the sea, that we should say. Who will go over the 
 sea for us, and bring it unto us ? It is very nigh unto us.'" 
 It is close to us. It is here ! Without the heart to desire, 
 and the eye to perceive it, it might, indeed, as well be far off 
 — at the very outskirts of the universe. There are, you know, 
 chemical experiments, in which, if a certain condition be 
 wanting, the element sought for cannot be elicited. It is 
 present, waiting, ready to leap into activity the moment the 
 condition is present. But as long as that is wanting, the 
 element is imprisoned, separated by an imj^assable barrier, 
 and might almost be said to be non-existent. Similarly, the 
 preoccupied mind might sleep at the very gate of heaven — 
 
78 THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 
 
 no celestial dreams would visit it. The worldly mind might 
 find itself in the house of God, " in the holiest of all ; '' but 
 the cloud of glory would sweep by it unnoticed. A mind 
 keen after earthly objects, and engrossed by the interests of 
 time, might live here three score years and ten, with "the 
 powers of the world to come" all the time surrounding it, 
 soliciting it, pressing in upon it ; and yet never once recog- 
 nize a single indication of the Divine Presence. And he who 
 finds nothino^ of heaven on earth would find nothino; but 
 earth even in heaven. "The pure in heart shall see Grod;'' 
 purity is the condition even of the beatific vision. The pure 
 in heart behold Him here ; the impure could not see Him 
 even there. Taney not, then, that change of place would 
 remedy the evil. All observatories are alike to the blind. 
 Complain not of the conditions of your being as unfavour- 
 able to the perception and sense of the Divine Presence. 
 The Psalmist thought not so ; he felt himself beset by it be- 
 hind and before, haunted by the omniscient eye, and, if not 
 oppressed, yet consciously surrounded by the living God. 
 
 And the ordinances of religion are designed to j^roduce 
 this state of mind. As the Lord, the Spirit, He is present 
 in our meetings for prayer — present to impart and diffuse a 
 Divine life. Let Him see every high thought and imagina- 
 tion cast doAvn, and find us panting, languishing for His aid, 
 as those who feel they" must perish without it, and He will 
 manifest Himself imto us as He does not unto the world, 
 filling us v/ith His own life. As the great Source of all 
 spiritual usefulness, He is j^resent in all our religious organi- 
 zations and societies — present to see if He can trust us with 
 success, or if we are ready to appropriate the honour of 
 success to ourselves, and tJius rob Him of the glory. Let 
 Him see us, on every fresh instance of prosperity, taking it 
 to His footstool, hastening to cast it as a crown at His feet, 
 casting ourselves there, and exclaiming, "Not unto us, 
 God, not unto us, but unto thy name be all the glory " — • 
 let Him see this, and Pie will not merely manifest His power 
 
THE CONDESCENDING GOD. 79 
 
 to US, He will make us the manifestations of His power to 
 the world. He is present as often as his Word is read, and 
 His Gospel is pressed home on the hearer — present to mark 
 if the proud heart is humbled — if the hard and insensible 
 heart begins to quiver with sensibility. Let his Gospel be 
 thus responded to, and He will make it the power of God 
 unto salvation. Let Him be thus welcomed; and, though no 
 cloud of glory might descend, the grace which it symbolized 
 would be here. No cherubim might be heard crying to each 
 other ; but, " I say unto you, there would be joy among the 
 angels in the presence of God.'' No vision from heaven 
 might brighten on our eye ; but tlie reality would be here, 
 without the imagery — the manifestation of God, without the 
 Shekinah — the Spirit, without the rushing mighty wind — 
 Pentecost in its converting and transforming results — truth 
 in the calmness of its power — love in its purifying flame — 
 God himself in the soul. 
 
 Brethren, this is what we v/ant, and this is all we want. 
 And why should we not have it ? The Majesty of heaven has 
 entered, and is here. Why should not this assembly present 
 to His eye the aspect we have described, welcome His presence, 
 and receive His blessing? "Oh, come let us worship and fall 
 down, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.'' 
 
 And now, God, this house is Thine. Manifest Thy pre- 
 sence here. Fill this house with Thy glory. Never may Thy 
 servants assemble here without expecting Thy j^resence ; never 
 separate without receiving Thy blessing. Often surprise them 
 with the richness of the blessing. Let the Church here be 
 united, holy, prayerful, enlarged, active, filled with all the 
 fruits of the Spirit ; and may it adorn the doctrine of God our 
 Saviour in all things. Let the ministry of Thy servant whom 
 Thou hast placed here be eminently useful. May he be 
 valiant for the truth, wise to win souls, suited to the wants 
 of the day, and greatly successful in enlarging the kingdom 
 of Christ. Lord, Vv^e beseech Thee, send now j^rosperity. 
 
80 GOD'a HOUSE THE HOUSE OF 
 
 SEEMON IV. 
 
 god's house the house of PEAYER for all PEOPLE. 
 ISAIAII Ivi. 7—" Mine house shall be called a house of prayer for all people." 
 
 In tlie ordinary course of preacliing, it is perhaps desirable to 
 limit attention to particular truths, and their personal prac- 
 tical application. Occasions sometimes arise, however, which 
 seem to invite the mind to a loftier range and a more com- 
 prehensive view of truth ; occasions when, almost unbidden, 
 the past yields up its treasures — and ages, with the men who 
 have made them memorable — dispensations, with the mira- 
 culous facts and the sublime disclosures which distinguished 
 them — the futurity of time, v/ith its distant horizon clothed 
 in flames — and eternity, with all the plans of God fulfilled, 
 pass in succession before our eyes. The dedication of a house 
 to the worship and service of God, or the anniversary re- 
 opening of such a j)lace, may be regarded as one of those 
 occasions ; for it is an event which springs out of all the past, 
 and which stands related to all the future. The subject of 
 the text is of this description, calling up recollections of 
 ancient times and early revelations, and j^ointing us onwards 
 to a day when, as the grand result of all that God has 
 planned, and Christ has suffered, and the Spirit has effected, 
 the world shall be seen prostrate before God in prayer. 
 This we regard, if not as the principal, as an important 
 doctrine of the text ; and this, therefore, we propose, first, to 
 illustrate; and, secondly, to apply. May the Lord of the 
 
PEAYER FOE ALL PEOPLE. 81 
 
 house be graciously i^resent by His Sj^irit to aid our endea- 
 vours and to bless His Word ! 
 
 I 
 
 In order to the realization of the glorious scene glanced 
 at in the text, in v/hich the world shall finally be seen pro- 
 strate before God in ^^rayer, the first and earliest step necessary 
 was the revelation of the Divine existence; "for he that 
 Cometh to God must believe that he is;" and "how shall 
 they call upon him of whom they have not heard?" This 
 fact takes us back in thought to the time when the know- 
 ledge of God was lost from the earth ; when the Lord, looking 
 down from heaven to see if there were any that did under- 
 stand and seek God, beheld the appalling spectacle of an 
 entire race in apostasy from Him ; and when, breaking the 
 fearful silence which sin had produced, He called to His 
 wandering creatures, and proclaimed, I AM. That was an 
 era in the moral history of man; for it was, in effect, giving 
 to a world of atheists a God. There the great Object of 
 Prayer stood revealed before them ; had they known Him, 
 the world v^^ould have flocked at once in adoration to His 
 feet. 
 
 II. 
 
 But, secondly. Does He take an interest in the affairs 
 of the icorld 1 for, if not, prayer to Him is useless. In 
 ansvfer to this inquiry Sinai rises to view — Sinai, burning 
 mth fire, covered with blackness, and darkness, and tempest, 
 and echoing with the sound of a trumpet and the voice of 
 words. God is there — legislating for sinful man. Can you 
 question. His deep, deep interest in human affairs? Listen 
 to His lav/ as He proclaims it, and mark how much of it 
 relates directly to your welfare. Mark how it denounces a 
 curse against all who shall neglect the duties they owe to 
 you ! How tender it is of your life, denouncing the man who 
 shall even be angry with you v/ithout a cause ! How jealously 
 
 r 
 
82 god's house the house of 
 
 it guards your property, your reputation, everything dear to 
 you ! How it throws its ample shield over you and all you 
 have — constitutes itself the watchful guardian of the whole — 
 kindles into a wall of fire around it — thunders forth, " Cursed 
 is every one that attempts to injure him,'' and requires all 
 the people to say, amen — requires the universe to give a 
 solemn pledge that it will be tender of your welfare ! The 
 essence of the whole is love; and that essence it seeks to 
 instil into human hearts — binding them all together into one 
 great community of love. Was it possible that man, after 
 that, could question the kind interest of God in human 
 affairs? Apart from the Gospel, nothing in the universe 
 displays the Divine benevolence so much as the giving of 
 the law. Had it been published from Sinai to a holy and 
 an obedient race, it would have been received and enshrined 
 with acclamations of delight. But it was published for a 
 race in rebellious confederacy against Him — a fact which 
 marks His benevolence more strikingly still — published as a 
 proof of the Divine presence among them and of His imme- 
 diate government over them — and published as a standing 
 protest against human sinfulness, with a view of awakening 
 in the heart a sense of guilt and a loud cry for mercy. Here, 
 then, was God furnishing the world with another great occa- 
 sion for prayer. Man now not only knew of His existence, 
 but saw that He took a deep interest in human welfare. 
 
 HI. 
 
 But, thirdly, Is tlie great God accessible? That He 
 takes a benevolent interest in human affairs is evident. If, 
 however, the terrors of Sinai are not laid aside — if that is a 
 specimen of His usual state — who can venture to approach 
 Him? "The Lord said," saith Solomon, "that he would 
 dwell in the thick darkness." Will He emerge from that 
 cloud — dissipate that gloom — and allow man to approach 
 Him? The temple on Sion is an answer to the inquiry. 
 " Let the people build me a sanctuary," saith God, " that I 
 
PEAYEE FOE ALL PEOPLE. 83 
 
 may dwell among them." This was another stage, a vast 
 advance in the Divine condescension. To shew His own 
 sense of its importance, He siipj^lied the model, and selected 
 the spot, and snperintended the erection of the bnilding. 
 "VVTien completed, the Majesty of heaven came down and 
 visibly took possession. The very idea that He should do 
 this overwhelmed the mind of Solomon with amazement. 
 " Will God," said he, " in very deed dwell with man npon the 
 earth? Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot 
 contain thee ; how much less this house which I have built 1 " 
 *'Will the Divine Omnipresence take up His dwelling here? 
 Is not the expectation too great to be realized?" " No,'' saith 
 God ; " this is my rest for ever ; here will I dwell, for I have 
 desired it." What amazing condescension was this! He 
 might have paid only a transient visit there; and then we 
 may supj)ose how greatly would the seasons of His visits 
 have been prized! But how astonishing that He should 
 speak of it as His rest — His permanent abode! Did not 
 the world repair to Him? When it was rumoured abroad 
 that the Lord of heaven had a house upon earth, did not the 
 guilty race come to cast themselves at His feet and sue for 
 mercy? — That was the object of His coming. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " But will He," it might have been asked, in the next place, 
 " will He ])ardon ? His house may be filled with thunder- 
 bolts of justice, and with ministers of destruction, for man 
 has deserved it. Accessible He may be, but is He propi- 
 tious?" ApjDroach and read the inscription over its gates, 
 " The house of prayer." Then there is hope for the penitent, 
 pardon for the guilty. Let us enter and ascertain. On 
 crossing the threshold and looking around, we find that it 
 is distributed into three parts. We find ourselves at first in 
 the court of the temple ; here the principal objects are a 
 great altar of sacrifice, and a laver in which the sacrifices are 
 washed. " What mean that cleansing water, and that bleed- 
 
84 god's house the house of 
 
 ing lamb V They say, as plainly as tliey can, that " without 
 the shedding of blood there is no remission of sins,'' and that 
 the victim whose blood is shed must be spotless. 
 
 We advance, and find ourselves in the second part, the holy 
 place. Here the principal objects are a golden candlestick, 
 a table of shew-bread, and an altar of incense ; and what 
 mean these objects ? They denote that the sacrifice is ac- 
 cepted, that God is propitiated, that He is waiting to illu- 
 minate and anoint His worshipj^ers with His Spirit, to feast 
 their souls on living bread, and to accept their praises as 
 grateful incense. " But what means that mysterious veil 
 which conceals the third part of the temple, the holiest of 
 all?'' It denotes that sinful man can fuUi/ approach a holy 
 God only through a Divine Mediator, and that that Mediator 
 is not yet come. But we know what is within. There stands 
 the ark of the covenant, and the mercy-seat resting wpon it, 
 denoting mercy resting on faithfulness ; and there are the 
 cherubim overshadowing the mercy-seat, intimating the 
 reverence with v/hich even mercy itself should be sought, 
 and the profound mystery wliich it involves. "But what 
 means that mass of dazzling hght above ?" It is the symbol 
 of the Divine presence — God is there. "And why dwells 
 He there ?" That men may come and fall down before Him, 
 and that He may commune with them from ofi" the mercy- 
 seat. Why dwells He there? Do you not see through 
 His gracious design ? ^ He makes it His rest, that men may 
 come to Him, and make it theii rest. Numbers through 
 successive ages availed themselves of His grace. There Peni- 
 tence often smote on its breast, till its tears were wiped away. 
 There conscious Guilt lost its tormenting sting, and first 
 found peace. Pear lifted up its eye and smiled. Faith looked 
 up in the face of God, and appealed to the heart of God, as 
 it stood with its hand on the head of the victim. There 
 prophets, and kings, and the righteous men of many nations 
 bowed down in prayer, and found that which they sought — 
 acceptance with God. 
 
PEAYER FOE ALL PEOPLE. 86 
 
 V. 
 
 But everything there — gracious as it was, calculated as it 
 was to bring all people in humble prostration before God — 
 existed only in type and promise. It may be asked, there- 
 fore, in the next place, " Have those types been accomplished ? 
 That temple is gone — its sj^lendours have vanished — its most 
 sacred things have disappeared — the Vv^hole economy is abo- 
 lished — the very nation scattered to the Vv^inds of heaven ! 
 Are those promises fulfilled?'' Oh, what stupendous scenes 
 arise, and present themselves in reply ! The fulness of time 
 arrives, and, behold, God sendino; forth His So7i ! All heaven 
 is wondering and rejoicing, for in His person Divinity and 
 humanity have at length met. Before, they had been only 
 approaching each other ; but nov/ they have met, coalesced, 
 and become one. He has taken our nature, and has made a 
 temple of that. God is manifest in the flesh. Calvary ap- 
 pears ; there, as our substitute. He is making an infinite com- 
 pensation for our demerit — washing out the guilt of the world 
 with His blood — dying, that God may never more be angry 
 with man, that man may never more deny or grieve the love 
 of God. The day of Pentecost arrives — behold in its scenes 
 a proof that our Advocate has entered on His ofiice of inter- 
 cession above, and that His sacrificial plea prevails ; for lo ! 
 the Spirit is poured out from on high, and thousands bow in 
 meek subjection to His power, constituting at once the means 
 and the pledge that unto Him, as the hearer of prayer, shall 
 all flesh come. 
 
 Is it then still asked if the ancient promises have been 
 fulfilled ? Let the tears of the sinner, the joy of the saint, 
 the success of the Gospel in every subsequent age, bear wit- 
 ness. Behold in this house itself an adequate reply. Do 
 you look around and ask for the altar of sacrifice ? " We 
 have an altar,'' says the apostle. Though invisible to the 
 eye of sense, the eye of fiiith beholds it ; and on that altar 
 there is a victim ; will you not reverently aj^proach and 
 
86 god's house the house of 
 
 look upon Him? Mark the majesty and meekness, the 
 dignity and compassion of His looks. It is Christ crucified. 
 It is the Lamb of God taking away the sin of the world. 
 The Lord hath laid upon Him the iniquity of us all. Is not 
 that sujDcrior to the Jewish sacrifices ? He is spotless ; His 
 blood cleanseth from all sin; by His one ofi^iering He hath 
 perfected for ever them that are sanctified. Will you not 
 draw near, and nearer still, and lay your hand by faith on 
 the head of this atoning sacrifice ? " God hath set him forth 
 as a propitiation for sin through faith in his blood.'' Do 
 you look around here for the ark of the covenant? The ark 
 we have not, but the covenant we have. What means this 
 sacred book ? " All that the ark did once contain, could no 
 such grace afford." " This is the neiu covenant,'' saith Christ, 
 " the new covenant in my blood," the covenant of life — every 
 page of it proclaims, " Hear, and your souls shall live." Do 
 you look around for the mysterious veil, and for the high 
 priest that enters within it ? We know of no veil here to 
 conceal the mercy-seat — we have access into the holiest of 
 all. The only veil we knov/ of is that which separates earth 
 from heaven; and as to our High Priest, He has passed 
 within that veil, He is gone into heaven itself, now to appear 
 in the presence of God for us. Our Advocate with the 
 Father is Jesus Christ the righteous. He ever liveth to 
 make intercession for us. Everything valuable in the Jewish 
 economy here finds accomplishment, stability, and perfection. 
 And the design of it all is to make His house a house of 
 prayer, a place of friendly meeting between God and man. 
 This was the great object at which He aimed when He dwelt 
 amongst us. Hence the attractions with which He invested 
 the throne of grace, adorning it with precious gifts, on which 
 He inscribed, "Ask, and ye shall receive" — describing Him 
 that sits on it as our Father, waiting to receive us as His 
 children — assuring us that we go there invited and expected 
 as His friends— and placing in our hands a censer filled with 
 
PExiYER FOR ALL PEOPLE. 87 
 
 the incense of His own merit, to make our acceiDtauce secure. 
 And still His heart is set on effecting an interview between 
 God and man. Hence the specific design for which He has 
 instituted the ministry of the Gospel is to beseech men to be 
 reconciled to God, to cast themselves down at His feet. And 
 hence the office of intercession which He fills in heaven, never 
 quitting His station, never remitting its duties for a moment, 
 but watching and encouraging the sinner as he takes the first 
 step towards the mercy-seat, by declaring, " I will pray the 
 Father for you;'' for well He knows that, when brought in 
 penitence to the footstool of mercy, our forgiveness is certain, 
 and the end of the Gospel is gained. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But again, admitting that God is thus accessible and gra- 
 cious, is He thus accessible and gracious to all ? Ask if the 
 light of day is free for all that see, ask if the air of heaven is 
 free for all that breathe — but ask not if the throne of God be 
 open to all that need salvation. " My house,'' saith He, " shall 
 be called a house of prayer for all people;" and remember 
 He said this under the local economy of the Jews. Is the 
 Gospel Church less open and free than the Jewish temple ? 
 Its gates are never to be shut, night nor day ! Its blessings 
 are to be offered without money and without price. Its 
 ministers are despatched into all lands with the command, 
 " Preach the Gospel to every creature under heaven. Proclaim 
 that I am now on my throne giving audience to the world 
 Say to them, all things are mine, come and share them. I 
 possess them for your enjoyment and use ; come, and let me 
 confer them upon you. All the riches and resources of heaven 
 are mine, and you may be made the happy recipients ; come, 
 and I will bless you with eternal life. Whosoever will, let lihn 
 come ; I cast out none." " My house shall be called a house 
 of prayer for all people." " thou that hearest prayer, to 
 thee shall all flesh come I " 
 
88 god's house the house of 
 
 VII. 
 
 And is there ground to conclude that this siibKme result 
 shall be realized ? " The mouth of the Lord hath spoken it/' 
 "I have sworn by myself, the word hath gone out of my 
 mouth in righteousness, and shall not return. That unto me 
 every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall swear/' By 
 what particular changes in the present kind of instrumentality, 
 at what precise period, or to what exact point of perfection 
 the result may be realized, we cannot say, and are not anxious 
 to know. Sufficient is it for us to know that the time shall 
 come, when the world shall be seen prostrate before God in 
 prayer. And then will it be clearly perceived that this has 
 been brought to pass as the result of all that God has planned, 
 and Christ has suffered, and the Spirit has effected. The 
 very mention of His name, then, will be sufficient to brino- the 
 world into a posture of adoration. They will come before 
 Him, hungry for His blessing, languishing for His Spirit — 
 coveting, craving the gifts of His grace. Is His throne of 
 mercy open to all ? Is His house a house of j)rayer for all 
 people ? " thou that hearest prayer, to thee sliall all flesh 
 come ! " They shall not be satisfied to enjoy Thee alone ; 
 they shall go out, and with a friendly violence compel others 
 to come in and share Thy favours with them. " It shall come 
 to pass, that there shall come people, and the inhabitants of 
 many cities ; and the inhabitants of one city shall go to 
 another, saying. Let us go speedily to pray before the Lord, 
 and to seek the Lord of hosts : I will go also. Yea, many 
 people and strong nations shall come to seek the Lord, and 
 to pray before the Lord." Churches shall come to adore 
 Him, cities to consult Him, nations to surrender to Him, all 
 the kindreds of the earth to fall down before Him. They 
 shall not be content to praise Him alone — they shall feel as 
 if they wanted help, the help of the world, to raise a song 
 adequate to His praise, and a prayer equal to the ardour of 
 their desires. " And it shall come to pass, that from one new 
 
PEAYEE FOE ALL PEOPLE. 89 
 
 moon to another, and from one sabbath to another, shall all 
 flesh come to worship before me, saith the Lord/' 
 
 Then man will have found his only proper place, will 
 have retm'ned to the only spot in the universe which becomes 
 him — at the feet of God. And having found his proper place, 
 his ultimate end, there will he rest — confessing himself nothing, 
 that God may be all — going out of himself and losing himself 
 in God, finding his heaven in the smile of God. Then God 
 will have recovered His proj^er glory — every idol will be 
 aboHshed, every rival power cast out — the eyes of all will wait 
 upon Him — all flesh will be hanging upon Him, staying them- 
 selves upon Him — He will be seen by the universe as the 
 centre of a lapsing creation, the support and stay of a sinking 
 world. Then the design of the whole GosjdcI constitution 
 will be completed — "That no flesh should glory in his pre- 
 sence " — everything will have redounded to the glory of His 
 grace. And when all flesh shall thus be seen prostrate before 
 God in prayer, what will it be but a prelude to the worship 
 of heaven — what will remain but that the whole should be 
 transferred to the employment of praise above ! Infinite 
 Love, ascending the throne and putting on the crown, shall 
 sit down and enjoy an eternal Sabbath of love ! vfhile the 
 myriads of the redeemed and glorified, casting their crowns 
 at His feet, shall ascribe their hapj^iness to Him, and the 
 jubilee of eternity shall begin ! 
 
 VIIL 
 
 1. Brethren, to this point everything in the mediatorial 
 government of Christ is tending with the directness and force 
 of a law. To this end, therefore, every event in His Church, 
 every movement of His people, should be intentionally subor- 
 dinated. Viewed apart from this ultimate design, the most 
 magnificent projects of man become puerile ; viewed in con- 
 nexion with it, things in themselves of very slender account 
 swell into infinite importance. It hallows whatever it touches, 
 ennobles and perpetuates whatever it employs. Brethren, 
 
90 god's house the house of 
 
 such is the fact in relation to this and every similar edifice. 
 Eegarded merely as a structure raised for the honour of a 
 religious denomination, it is little more than a few j)articles 
 of fabricated dust ; but regarded as pointing to the great end. 
 of which we are sjDeaking, its foundations rest on the deep- 
 laid purposes of God — its topstone touches the throne of God 
 ■ — its dimensions on all sides stretch away into infinity — it is 
 built into and forms a part of the vast system of means by 
 which God is working, and which fills the nniverse. Not 
 more certauily is it connected, as a material fabric, with the 
 universal laws of gravitation, and, as such, exerting a physical 
 mfluence through all space, than it stands connected, as a 
 moral means, with the universal government of God. Yes, 
 there is a sense in which even the temple of Jerusalem still 
 stands. Though, in a literal respect, not one stone of that 
 sacred pile remains upon another, in the moral influence v/hich 
 it exerts over the Church of God, it still lifts up its sacred 
 head — its fires still burn — its victims still bleed — its day of 
 atonement still returns. "We have seen them this morning, 
 we shall see them in eternity. Brethren, there is a sense in 
 which all the great events and solemn transactions related in 
 the Bible may be regarded as having taken place within these 
 walls. Here they will come, as they often have come, in the 
 ministry of the Gospel, and occur again. Here Eden will 
 bloom, and man will fall. Here God will speak, and Sinai 
 will burn. Here prophets will repeat their sacred strains, 
 and priests present their offerings. Here, " before your eyes, 
 Jesus Christ will evidently be set forth crucified among you;" 
 and here again w^ill be heard, in eff'ect, the rushing mighty 
 wind and the cries of penitence on the day of Pentecost. By 
 linking it on to the great machinery of Providence, all the 
 influences of the past come and gather around it, and settle 
 down ujoon it, while, for the future, all heaven is awake with 
 expectation ; f()r, as a house of God, a page is opened for it 
 in the book of His remembrance — as a house of jn-ayer, it 
 takes its stand among the means by which God is reducing 
 
PEAYEE FOE ALL PEOPLE. 91 
 
 and restoring all things to Himself ; it forms a part of that 
 vast combination of means by which all things and all 
 men are to be borne on into the presence of God, there 
 to fall prostrate before Him, and to acknowledge Him all 
 in all. 
 
 2. The question will be entertained, then, by every Christian 
 mind — How may this sacred place be made most effectually, 
 more effectually than ever, to subserve this great end ? The 
 text suggests the ansv/er — By making it literally a house of 
 prayer. Every power in the universe is regarded by God as 
 more or less opposed to Him, except the power of prayer, and 
 the means which prayer has sanctified. Every human habi- 
 tation in which God is not worshipped is a fortress raised in 
 hostility to Him, and the family which inhabits it is in arms 
 against Him. On the other hand, wherever prayer is made — 
 and in the exact proportion in which it is made — there He 
 beholds a spot reclaimed from the powers of darkness, and 
 subjects swearing allegiance to His throne. The erection or 
 enlargement of a place, therefore, professedly dedicated to 
 prayer — to public and united prayer — is, we may suppose, an 
 event which occasions joy among the angels in the presence 
 of God. "Behold/' they say, "another house of prayer — 
 another point of friendly communication betv/een earth and 
 heaven — another erection whose hallowed attraction shall 
 draw to itself the fertilizing clouds of heavenly grace !" 
 And while we are content with inquiring, as the building 
 rises, to what denomination of Christians it belongs, they are 
 only anxious to know what denomination of prayer will be 
 offered, what kind of suppliants will assemble in it — for well 
 they know that its real prosperity will depend upon that — 
 that its final amount of utility for hastening on the grand 
 consummation will depend upon that. And while we are 
 meeting, perhaps, and consulting 1jy what specific name it 
 shall be called, the Lord of angels himself is saying to us 
 from heaven, " If it is to be my house, it shall be called a 
 house ofpraye7\ The only condition on which it can receive 
 
92 god's house the house of 
 
 my blessing, and subserve my ultimate purposes, is by be- 
 coming a house of i^raijer.'' 
 
 Brethren, the world itself was intended to be a house of 
 prayer; every spot on it was meant to be sacred to the 
 worship of God ; all its air should have been incense, and all 
 its sounds adoration and praise. That purpose sin at- 
 tempted to defeat. But, oh ! a higher purpose still only 
 waited till the attempt should be made. From that moment 
 a plan of grace has been unfolding, which concentrates 
 within itself all the interest of the world's history, all that 
 is eventful in the universe. And when the consummation of 
 all things shall arrive, what will this world be thought of, 
 think you, but as it has furnished a stage for the unfolding 
 of that plan ; and as it was gradually reclaimed, in conse- 
 quence, from being a house of sin — again converted into 
 a house of prayer, and thus restored to its original design ? 
 Let man record its history, indeed, and he would dwell 
 chiefly on toj)ics of war and peace, of pestilence and famine, 
 the changes of thrones and the revolutions of empires ; but, 
 as written by the finger of God, these things shall be noticed 
 only as they subserved or opposed His final purpose, while 
 the history of the world, as far as man's instrumentality 
 tended to promote that purpose, shall be chiefly a history of 
 prayer. Preaching itself — benevolent activity itself, except 
 so far as it is associated with devotion — shall be passed over, 
 to record the triumphs of prayer. Many a Christian who 
 once filled the public eye with his active deeds and burning 
 zeal, shall be comparatively unnoticed — and the man of 
 prayer, the -vvTcstler with God, shall be drawn out from his 
 closet obscurity, and proclaimed in his stead ; and it shall 
 appear that while the one was only moving earth, the other 
 was movino^ heaven. 
 
 Are we asked for a proof of this ? Brethren, a great portion 
 of the world's history is written — written by the finger of 
 God. The Bible is God's summary of the history of the 
 world do^vn to the close of the first century of the present 
 
PEAYER FOR ALL PEOPLE. 93 
 
 era. What are tlie deeds — wliat is the kind of human 
 instrumentality which He has deemed most worthy of record? 
 Oh, if I did not believe you to be sufficiently acquainted 
 with them already, I would say, Paint them on the walls of 
 this sacred place — let those spaces now left in unadorned 
 simplicity be occu]3ied with the principal scenes out of God's 
 history of man's instrumentality. And they would soon be 
 peopled with suppliants in all the postures of devotion — 
 crowded with the various forms and attitudes of prayer. In 
 one ]3lace, Abraham would appear interceding for Sodom — 
 and Omnipotence waiting till he had done — the tempest of 
 descending fire suspended in the air — suspended, and ready 
 to be blo^\ii away by the breath of prayer. In another, 
 Moses would appear holding back the arm of God, while 
 Omnipotence is saying, as if embarrassed, " Let me alone — ■ 
 let me alone, that I may destroy them.'' In one compart- 
 ment should stand the Temple, with the scene of the Dedi- 
 cation — a nation at prayer — and clouds of massive glory 
 filling the house. And in another, the same Temple, with 
 its high priest occupied in the office of twofold interces- 
 sion — prayer with the voice, and prayer by sacrifice — the 
 prayer of blood. Did Jesus pray? Oh! in a sense more 
 than figurative. He saved the world by prayer. Portray a 
 mountain top, and Jesus on it — j)rostrate, alone, wet with 
 the dews of night — praying to God with strong crying and 
 tears. And next, a garden — Gethsemane — and Jesus there, 
 praying in an agony which baptizes Him in his o^vn blood. 
 And next, "the place called Calvary," and Jesus dying — 
 offering that great sacrificial prayer, which still pleads, still 
 fills the ear of God, and for the sake of which alone all other 
 prayers are heard. Can the cloven tongues of fire be por- 
 trayed ? Porget not to represent the apostles on whom they 
 rest, assembled in prayer. Elsewhere, let an angel be seen 
 despatched from the Divine presence, to liberate Peter from 
 prison ; but forget not to represent the discij^les in a neigh- 
 bouring house in prayer. But, oh, there is a vision no 
 
9-i god's house the house of 
 
 human eye but one lias seen — a heavenly scene which sums 
 u^) all — an angel standing at the altar, having a golden 
 censer ; and there is given him much incense, that he may 
 offer it, with the j^rayers of all saints, upon the golden altar 
 which is before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, 
 blending with the prayers of the saints, ascends up before 
 God, out of the angel's hand. Yes, here is the summing 
 up of man's instrumentality. Of all the various ways in 
 which he em2:)loys himself here — look into that censer, and 
 mark which of them it is that reaches heaven — only that 
 which was sanctified by prayer. When the clamours of a 
 2:)rayerless zeal have subsided, and the undevout deeds Vvdiich 
 have dazzled and astounded men have spent their force, 
 mark what is left in the censer — only that which partook of 
 the nature of prayer. This is all that lives to reach the 
 skies, all that Heaven receives from earth, aU. that is ever 
 permitted to ascend before God. Oh, brethren, would you 
 have this place to be named at last in God's history of the 
 world ? — let it be distinguished now as a house of prayer ; 
 for when that history shall at last be summed up, nothing 
 which had not been in that censer will be named, except to 
 be condemned ; and nothing now will ever find a place in 
 that, but that which ascends on the breath of prayer. 
 
 Here, then, you are to come in the spuit of prayer. The 
 great idea of God, as the object of prayer, is to mingle with 
 all your thoughts of the place, hallowing, ennobling, and lift- 
 ing it into sacred importance. The very presence of a church 
 or chapel is to be viewed as a perpetual protest against all 
 prayerlessness and irreligion. By it God is to be regarded 
 as repeating His original announcement, and saying to all 
 the passers-by, " I AM — come and fall do^vn and worship me." 
 And by it you are to be regarded as saying to them, " come, 
 let us worship and fall down, let us kneel before the Lord our 
 Maker." Eemembering that you come to obtain an audience 
 of the Great King, you will be punctual and regular in your 
 attendance. You will see to it that " praise waiteth for God 
 
PEAYER FOE ALL PEOPLE. 95 
 
 in Zion" — He will not have to wait for it. You will allow no 
 affairs but His to be transacted here ; it was the violation of 
 this understood compact with God which led our Lord to say 
 of the temple, " It is written, My house shall be called a 
 house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves.'' As 
 if you had just heard of His existence for the first time, you 
 are to come, labouring to reahze to your minds the idea of His 
 glorious presence, to feel that He has entered, and is here. As 
 if His providence had only just now taken the affans of men 
 under its superintendence, or as if you had only now heard 
 of it for the first time, you will come full of confidence and 
 hope ; for what if all the princes and philosophers and philan- 
 thropists on earth were daily to meet in solemn council on 
 nothing but your affairs, and to devote all their resources to 
 your use, what would that be comj^ared with the glorious 
 truth that God has taken your affairs into His hands, and 
 that here He is always present expressly to receive you ? As 
 if the great facts of the Gospel history had only just trans- 
 pired, as if the clouds of glory which conveyed the ascending 
 Saviour to heaven had hardly yet disappeared, you will come 
 full of expectation and joy, you will anticipate fresh dis- 
 closures of His grace, royal favours from His hand. And 
 the more you expect, the more you honour Him. Brethren, 
 are your feelings up to a level with the height of the present 
 occasion ? When the ark, the mere symbol of the Divine 
 presence, was carried into the ancient temple, the whole na- 
 tion of Israel was thrown into a transport of delight, the 
 firmament rang with acclamations. As if nothing could be 
 supposed to be inanimate and insensible on such an occasion, 
 the very gates of the city and doors of the temple are sum- 
 moned to open of their own accord. Has less taken place 
 here ? " Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men,'' is with 
 you ! Are you sufl&ciently aware whose house this is ? Had 
 an angel come to dwell among you, would it not have been 
 with you a season of excitement and expectation ? This is 
 more than Gabriel's house. The great Potentate himself has 
 
96 god's house the house of 
 
 come down to chvell among you. Angels are liere merely to 
 grace tlie occasion, and to be sliarers of yonr joy. Adore 
 His condescension. Expect His blessing. Let your affections 
 go forth to meet Him, and your hearts be enlarged to receive 
 Him. Eegard it as none other than the house of God, and 
 He will make it the gate of heaven. 
 
 4. Again, here everything is to be done with the view of 
 leading to prayer. As we have been proceeding with our 
 remarks, the question may have arisen in some minds, " What ! 
 is our piety to take no other form than that of prayer ? is it 
 to shew itself in no other way than by prayer?'' Such a 
 question, however, could be entertained only where there 
 existed a misapprehension of the nature of prayer, and of the 
 way in which prayer, like an all-pervading element, pene- 
 trates and blends Vv-itli all the various methods in which 
 piety works. Confine yourselves to mere acts of devotion I 
 no, not even in the house of prayer itself ; only see to it, that 
 whatever you do, you do it with an ultimate view to prayer. 
 If you preach the Gospel, for instance, you are to bear in 
 mind that that is the most successful preaching which brings 
 men prostrate before God for mercy — that this is the end of 
 the Gospel ministry. And the more vividly you can set forth 
 Jesus Christ crucified among them, the more effectually this 
 end will be answered. Oh, yes, let this place have a Calvary 
 in the midst of it, and on that Calvary let there be a cross, 
 and on that cross a bleeding Saviour — and on that sight, 
 that spectacle of love, let the eyes of the people be kept 
 perpetually fixed. As preachers of the Gospel, our great 
 distinction is that we are ministers of the cross — we have to 
 wait on the cross, to walk around the cross, to point out to 
 the people the wonders of the cross. Have we any pathos ? 
 it should be kept for telling them of the cross. Have we any 
 affection for their souls ? it should gush forth when we are 
 pointing them to the cross. Have we any tears for them ? 
 where shall we shed them but when w^e have led our people 
 to the cross ? when we are there saying to the sinner, " Be- 
 
PEAYER FOR ALL PEOPLE. 97 
 
 hold Him — look on Him — He is woiinded for your transores- 
 sions, bruised for your iniquities, the chastisement of your 
 peace is upon Him, that with His stripes you might be healed. 
 Draw nearer to Him — it is of you that He is thinking ; that 
 blood is to wash away your sins ; that life which He is pour- 
 ing out is the ransom He is giving for your soul. Dravf 
 nearer still, look into His heart, read the names which are 
 written there — your name is among them." And while we 
 are thus entreating the sinner, does he relent ? Does he 
 look u2)on Him whom he has pierced, and mourn ? Does he 
 smite upon his breast, crying, " God, be merciful to me a 
 sinner"? — then the end of the ministry is answered — "Be- 
 hold, he prayeth." 
 
 But besides the preaching of the Gospel, all the other ordi- 
 nances of God's house are to be here administered. And in 
 addition to these, children are to be collected and taught on 
 the Sabbath, pecuniary offerings are to be cast into the 
 Christian treasury, the Bible is to be distributed, visits of 
 mercy are to be paid in the neighbourhood aroimd. It is to 
 be God's house for doing God's work. But however various 
 the agencies and extensive the operations which are here 
 organized and kept in activity, the tendency of the whole 
 must be to bring men to God in prayer. Where will it avail 
 if it stop short of this — if it does not contribute to this ? 
 The tendency of all that God does is to lead to this ; and if 
 you would act in harmony with His designs, the direction of 
 all your movements for others must be towards the presence 
 of God, the language of all you do for them must be, " We 
 cannot be satisfied till we see them reconciled to God — pros- 
 trate before Him in prayer." 
 
 5. Here, too, the salvation of the world, and whatever may 
 be instrumentally necessary to that salvation, should be made 
 the subject of prayer. " My house," saith God, " shall be called 
 a house of prayer for all people." But as all will not, cannot 
 here pray for themselves, your obvious duty is to come and 
 pray for them. Parents pray for your children, and children 
 
 G 
 
98 god's house the house of 
 
 pray for your parents. Let all the various relations of life 
 here come to pray for each other. Pray for the neighbour- 
 hood around ; there is a sense in which it is committed to 
 your care, in which God is saying to you, as to His people of 
 old, " I will make you, and the places round about my hill a 
 blessing ; there shall be showers of blessing."" Pray to be 
 made the cloud from which the showers descend, the channel 
 through which they flow. Pray for the prosperity of the 
 whole Christian Church, and remember that in doing that you 
 are in effect praying for the world, for the Great Intercessor 
 above prays not for a party. The names of all the tribes are 
 graven on His breastplate. And does He not love that prayer 
 the most which most nearly resembles his own ? Pray, then, 
 for the prosperity of the whole Christian Church. Do you 
 ask what should be the special object of supplication ? Ah ! 
 it wants more spirituality and distinctness from the Vv'oikl — it 
 wants a higher apj)reciation of its office, as the instrument of 
 Christ for saving the world — more of the sj)irit of liberality to 
 sacrifice for Christ — of union, of oneness, in accordance with 
 the prayer of Christ — of zeal which shall burn for the universal 
 triumph of Christ. But one want there is which compre- 
 hends the whole — the impartation of the spirit of Christ. 
 Could a convocation be held of all the churches upon earth, 
 the object of their one united cry should be for that promised 
 Spirit. Let that be secured, and in obtaining that we shall 
 obtain the sujDply of every other want — we should find that 
 we had acquired the same mind which was also in Christ, a 
 benevolence which would yearn over the whole human race — 
 a brotherly love which would combine with the whole body 
 of Christians for the conversion of the world — a zeal which 
 would be ever devising fresh methods of usefulness, practising 
 self-denial, and laying itself out in the service of Christ — and 
 a perseverance which would never rest till the whole family 
 of man should be seated together at the banquet of salvation. 
 And in coming here to implore an effusion of the Spirit on 
 the Church, remember that you are in effect interceding for 
 
PEAYER FOE ALL PEOPLE. 09 
 
 the world ; for it is throiigli the instrumentality of His Cbiiroh 
 that He proposes to save the world. Christians, realize in 
 thought the dignity of your office ; you go to God as the 
 earthly representatives of mankind — as intercessors for the 
 world. You pass to the throne of grace through multitudes, 
 myriads, of human beings. Do you. not hear them as you go, 
 imploring a place in your supplications ? Do you not see 
 all Africa assembled in your path, urging you to go to God 
 for them, to describe their wrongs, to ask for the blessings of 
 the rcign of Christ for them ? And before you have done 
 pleading for Africa, China comes, with its untold myriads, 
 entreating you to intercede for them. And while yet you are 
 pleading for China, India comes with its tale of lamentation 
 and woe, and entreats you to speak for it. And can you 
 refrain ? And when you grow faint, they all combine their 
 entreaties that you cry to God for them louder still, that you 
 call in hel]), more intercessors, and more still, till all the 
 Church be prostrate in prayer. And when you move to quit 
 the throne of grace, they all in effect entreat you not to leave 
 them unrepresented before God. " Oh, if there be a God,'' 
 they say, " and if prayer can reach Him, do not leave us thus, 
 or we perish ! Our only hope is in the God you worship, the 
 Saviour you proclaim. Pray that the blessings of His grace 
 may be extended to us." Brethren, realize your office thus ; 
 let this be a house of prayer for all people, and you will be 
 hastening the day when the world shall be given into the 
 hands of the Church, and the whole shall cast themselves at 
 the feet of Christ. 
 
 6. Here, then, in this place, and from this day, let a period 
 of enlargement commence in your views of the kingdom of 
 Christ, and in your endeavours to realize them. The opening 
 of the temple was an era in the history of the Jewish Church 
 — let this day be marked as an era, if not in the history of 
 the Church at large, at least in the history of those who 
 propose to worship here. Imagine that a new page is again 
 this day opened in your history — let it prove a fairer page 
 
100 god's house the house op 
 
 than any in the past. Eeview that past — ascertam in what 
 respects it admits of improvement, whether in the regularity 
 of your attendance on the means of grace — in the attention, 
 seriousness, and self-application with which you hear the 
 Word of God — in the amount of your pecuniary contributions 
 to His cause — in your personal activity in His service — or 
 in the fervour and comprehensiveness of your prayers ; and 
 in whichever it may be, ask God to record this day, in 
 the book of His remembrance, a holy resolution of instant 
 amendment. Especially see whether you ought not to take 
 a loftier stand than ever in relation to the gTcat interests of 
 the kingdom of Christ. Has He made you 23artakers of His 
 grace? Then He has taken you, and often takes you still, to 
 a height which commands a view of eternity, and bids you 
 take a comprehensive viev»^ of existence — to regard it as a 
 whole — to live for eternity. And having taught you this, as 
 essential to your own personal happiness. He next takes you 
 to another mount of vision, which commands a view of all 
 mankind, and He bids you to pray for them all — to open 
 your heart and embrace them all — to live for the universe. 
 Brethren, let this house be to you that mount of vision. The 
 present is a day of more extended views than the past — a 
 day of greater designs and more generous endeavours. Let 
 this be a house and a church for the day. 
 
 My young friends, you whose eye is kindling at these 
 designs — whose hearts beat high at those endeavours — be 
 you as men of God, men of and for the day. It is your 
 honour to belong to a denomination in the Church whose 
 name stands high up in the lists of Christian fame for 
 benevolent activity and Divine success. On you it is de- 
 volving to vindicate and continue that distinction. See that 
 no man take your crown. But, distinguished as your deno- 
 mination has been and still is, do not be satisfied to equal, 
 be ambitious to excel. Louder voices urge you on than your 
 predecessors have ever heard, and more splendid achieve- 
 ments await your advance. Take enlarged and comprehen- 
 
PEAYER FOR ALL PEOPLE. 101 
 
 sive views of duty — devise liberal things — design for the 
 universe and eternity. The Lord of the Church Himself 
 is your leader — angels witness the scene, and the world is 
 waiting to be blessed by your instrumentality. 
 
 But when, Christian friends, shall you begin? Let the 
 opening of this place, signalized as it undoubtedly is in 
 heaven, be signalized here by your begmning now. The 
 dedication of the temple was distinguished by the prodigious 
 number of the sacrifices offered, and by the solemnity, 
 spirituality, and comprehensiveness of the dedication prayer. 
 Shall not the opening of this place be similarly distinguished? 
 Some of you I know have already contributed of your pro- 
 perty liberally. "Well done, good and faithful servants.'' 
 But, oh, let us hear, as we do of the churches of Macedonia, 
 not only of your liberality, but of the riches of your libe- 
 rality. Give as God gives. Give under the expanding and 
 exhilarating recollection that you are giving in a house of 
 prayer, where you will come to ask Him to give heaven and 
 eternal life — that you are giving towards a house of prayer 
 for all people, for w^hom God hath given His only begotten 
 Son. Give under these impressions, and you will so give, 
 that in eternity you will bless God for disposing you to act 
 so much like Himself. 
 
 Prayers, too, have been offered — solemn prayers — compre- 
 hensive prayers — prayers wdiich the angel havmg the censer 
 hath presented, and w^hich He who sits on the throne hath 
 heard. But — has each one i3resent joined? Let inquiry 
 be made. Have all i^rayed? What! is there one present 
 whose heart has not miited in the general suj^plication — 
 one who has never yet begim to pray? who, in the very 
 house of prayer, while every one around him was engaged 
 in prayer, has yet kept aloof from the throne of mercy? 
 Is he not pointed out at this moment by invisible beings? 
 Are they not gazing at him with pity and wonder? Ought 
 not all present to pray for him? ]My friend, do you 
 know what you do? Shall we pause while you do pray? 
 
102 god's house the house of peayee. 
 
 Suppose we were now to say to this assembly, in the lan- 
 guage of the prophet, " Come now, and let us join ourselves 
 unto the Lord in a perpetual covenant," and let all who are 
 ready to comply give a sign, would you alone give no 
 sign? would you be the only one to remain out of the 
 holy confederation? Shall we pause, then, while you now 
 pray? Shall we Avait while you now offer your first entreaty 
 for mercy? Yes — now, it will gloriously signalize the present 
 occasion — noiu, the news will be conveyed to heaven — now, 
 it would be converting this house at once to its highest pur- 
 pose — it will be hastening on the day when all flesh shall be 
 seen prostrate before God in prayer, and preparing additional 
 lustre for that day when all the crowns in the universe shall 
 be cast at the Saviour's feet. 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETEENAL WISDOM. 103 
 
 SEEMON V. 
 
 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETEENAL WISDOM. 
 
 Proverbs viii. 30-36—" Then I was by him, as one brought up with him : 
 and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him ; rejoicing in 
 the habitable part of his earth ; and my delights were with the sons of 
 men. 
 
 " Now therefore hearken unto me, ye children : for blessed are they 
 that keep my ways. Hear instmctiou, and be wise, and refuse it not. 
 Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, 
 waiting at the posts of my doors. For whoso findeth me findeth life, 
 and shall obtain favour of the Lord. But he that sinneth against me 
 wrongeth his own soul : all they that hate me love death." 
 
 This and the fcllowing chapter contain a bold, and, in 
 parts, a sublune personification of Wisdom. But who, or 
 what, is to be understood by this personification ? Some 
 would reply that it relates entirely to that attribute of the 
 Divine nature which we understand by wisdom. Others, 
 that it refers exclusively to the eternal and only-begotten 
 Son, by whom all things were made. And others, again, 
 that it relates exclusively to neither — but partly to that 
 wisdom which begins in the fear of the Lord, j)artly to the 
 Divme attribute of wisdom, and partly to the Son of God 
 — the second person in the Godhead. Of these views, 
 probably the conclusion of the latter is the nearest approxi- 
 mation to the truth ; especially as certain expressions are 
 applied to Christ in the New Testament very nearly resem- 
 bling some of those which are here predicated of wisdom. 
 At all events, while, on the one hand, none can demonstrate 
 
104^ THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETEKNAL WISDOM. 
 
 that Christ is here directly intended, on the other, none can 
 pi^ove that he is not contemplated ; and, perhaps, both will 
 admit that, under certain conditions, language such as that 
 in our text may be justifiably applied to Him. One of these 
 conditions is, that the language be not employed argumen- 
 tatively, or in 'proof of anything relating to Christ, but only 
 for the purpose of illustration ; and another is, that when so 
 employed, it be only adduced to illustrate such views of the 
 Son of God as are already established by such other jDarts of 
 Scripture as are admitted by the parties addressed. In 
 compliance with these conditions, it might be said — Do we 
 regard it as speaking of Christ under the appellation of 
 Wisdom ? In the New Testament He is called expressly the 
 Word and the Wisdom of God, as declaring His eternal pre- 
 existence. He himself speaks of the glory which He had 
 with the Father before the world was — as intimating that 
 He was even then the object of the 23aternal comjjlacency. 
 "Behold," saith the Father himself, " behold mine elect, in 
 whom my soul delighteth " — as having taken part in the 
 process of creation. "In the beginning was the Word, 
 and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. All 
 things were made by him, and without him was not any- 
 thing made that was made.''' 
 
 But we are disposed to take higher ground than this. 
 Even admitting that all the lofty things which are here 
 predicated of wisdom relate, not to a person, but only to an 
 attribute, whose is the attribute ? Considering the relation 
 sustained by Christ in the great economy of creation and 
 redemption, we entertain no doubt whatever that, not the 
 attribute, but the person in whom the attribute resides, is 
 the eternal Son of God — that the being with whom wisdom 
 is here represented as having resided and rejoiced from 
 eternity is the second person in the Godhead. "For hy him 
 were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in 
 earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or do- 
 minions, or principalities, or powers : all things were created 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETEENAL WISDOM. 105 
 
 by him and for liim : and he is before all things, and by 
 him all things consist/' And liere He comes forth and 
 discloses the wondrous truth, that from the beginning His 
 wisdom had been devising our welfare, and His love rejoicing 
 in the prosjDcctive results of His plans ; and that on this 
 account He deems himself entitled to our supreme regard. 
 " Now therefore hearken unto me, ye children : for blessed 
 are they that keep my ways. Blessed is the man that 
 heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the posts 
 of my door.'' May that blessing be ours on the present 
 occasion ! 
 
 The train of thought suggested by the text is the follow- 
 ing : — That, from eternity, the welfare of man engaged the 
 complacent regard of God our Saviour ; that the disclosure 
 of this fact warrants the expectation that all His intercom\se 
 with us would be made to harmonize with that welfare; 
 that a place employed for — dedicated to — that intercourse, and 
 devoted to that welfare, may be supposed to be an object of 
 His special regard ; and that, if in these respects He fulfils 
 our expectations from Him, we should fulfil the correspond- 
 ing expectations which He may be suj^posed to entertain 
 respecting us. 
 
 We learn here, in the first place, that, from the beginning, 
 the welfare of man engaged the complacent regard of God 
 our Sa\iour. 
 
 1. He represents Himself here as deriving delight from 
 the spectacle even of the matei^ial creation, because it was 
 to be subservient to man. When He surveyed it, He en- 
 joyed the happiness of beholding, objectively idealized, that 
 which he had hitherto contemplated only in idea. He 
 looked on material objects as visible realizations of eternal 
 types. On comparing them with the originals in His ovm. 
 infinite mind, He beheld the perfect resemblance, and was 
 satisfied. 
 
106 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 He beheld them in their prospective application, serving 
 as indexes or intimations of His infinite greatness to myriads 
 of minds which he purposed to create, and so to constitute 
 that each of all these things should operate on them sugges- 
 tively. He knew, therefore, all the lofty thoughts which these 
 objects would ever suggest, and all the exquisite intense de- 
 light those thoughts would occasion, and all the holy admira- 
 tion which the perception of this relation between the material 
 and the mental would ever produce. 
 
 He looked on these objects as the first in an endless 
 series yet to come. Now, on taking the first step towards 
 the realization of a noble design, the mind is apt to antici- 
 pate consequences, to spring forwards to meet them, and to 
 rejoice in them as if they were already present. In begin- 
 ning to build a house for God, we already think of it as the 
 gate of heaven. At the opening of the Jewish temple, the 
 mind of Solomon, as his prayer indicates, contemplated the 
 sacred edifice in connexion with all the future leading events 
 of the economy, and thus contributed to invest it with a 
 solemn interest which it will never lose. In His first acts of 
 creation, the Great Architect was laying the foundation of an 
 all-comprehending and eternal temple ; and His infinite mind 
 embraced by anticipation all the sublime results — the wor- 
 shippers, the transactions, the temple filled with the glory of 
 the Divine manifestation — all were present to His mind, and 
 He rejoiced in the glorious prospect. 
 
 2. There was the happiness of prospectively beholding the 
 activity, enlargement, and progress of the whole system of 
 creation and providence. He enjoyed that. Great as the 
 pleasure of the mechanist is in looldng on his ingenious and 
 complicated machinery at rest, it is as nothing compared 
 with what he feels when he sees it in harmonious and useful 
 activity. Great as is the satisfaction of the statesman in 
 conceiving a plan for the aggrandizement of his country, it is 
 as nothing compared with what he feels when he knows that 
 his designs are in actual progress — that every agent is at his 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 107 
 
 post — every means answering its end — and when every hour 
 is bringing him intelligence that his plans, like a richly 
 freighted fleet, are sailing with the wind and tide of circum- 
 stance strong in their favour for the desired haven. Now, 
 this the Mediator beheld in relation to His vast designs. Not 
 more certainly is the earth perpetually speeding on its destined 
 course through space, and carrying with it all the momentous 
 interests of humanity, than His plan, freighted with an eter- 
 nal weight of glory for the creature, and with the weightier 
 revenue of glory to God, is in constant j^rogress. Never for 
 a moment does it retrograde — ^never pause — never linger. 
 Look on it when He will, He beholds it arrived at that staire 
 where a thousand ages ago He foresaw it would be ; and 
 look forwards to what distant age He will. He beholds it, in 
 anticipation, already there arrived. Hence He is often repre- 
 sented in Scripture — in the text — as foretasting the happi- 
 ness arising from the contemplation of this progress. Out 
 of the depths of eternity He looked onwards to the period 
 when creation should commence. "From everlasting, from 
 the beginning, or ever the earth was — when there were no 
 depths — ^no fountains abounding with water — when as yet 
 He had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest 
 part of the dust of the world" — He anticipated the period 
 when all these should be. Beyond this. He looked on to the 
 remoter period when the earth should be prepared for the 
 reception and sustenance of animal life. He saw its forests 
 wave, its waters roll, its surface clothed with verdure, and 
 the whole rej^lenished with various orders of sentient being. 
 Beyond this, His eye fixed on the time when, in order to the 
 arrival of man. He should " prepare the heavens, and set a 
 compass upon the face of the deep — ^when He should estab- 
 lish the clouds above — ^when He should give to the sea His 
 decree that the waters should not pass His commandment 
 — ^^vhen He should appoint the foundations of the earth." 
 Already in His prescient view the sun had received its final 
 commission to shine — and earth had received its general out- 
 
108 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETEENAL WISDOM. 
 
 line of Alp, and Apennine, and Himalaya — of Atlantic, Pa- 
 cific, and Mediterranean. Already Eden bloomed, and a 
 river went out of it to water the p;arden. Man's mansion 
 was prejDared — but where was the great inhabitant ? The 
 theatre was ready — ^where was the being on whose introduc- 
 tion the mighty drama should begin ? Already, in intention, 
 He saw that creature come, radiant in His own image — the 
 cro^\ai of creation ; and as He saw, He already heard the 
 morning stars sing together — saw earth's first Sabbath dawn 
 — ^beheld man's earliest act of adoration, and pronounced the 
 whole to be good. Even then, though they existed only in 
 His Divine purpose, He "rejoiced in the habitable parts of 
 the earth, and His delights were with the sons of men." He 
 foresaw His blessing enlarging Japheth, and causing him to 
 dwell in the tents of Shem. His purpose had formed the 
 gTcat continents of the earth — had smoothed the valleys 
 where nations should be cradled — and given direction to the 
 course of the rivers, whose banks should become the seat of 
 empire. The subsequent distribution of Canaan among the 
 tribes of Israel was only the transcription of an eternal plan. 
 "Eemember the days of old, consider the years of many 
 generations : ask thy father, and he will shew thee ; thy 
 elders, and they will tell thee. When the Most High divided 
 to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons 
 of Adam, he set the bounds of the peoi3le according to the 
 number of the children of Israel." Yes, before Moses — before 
 Pisgah itself, from which Moses looked down on the promised 
 land, existed — His eye had looked do^vn from the height of 
 His sanctuary, and had beheld prospectively that Sinai whence 
 His law should be given — that Zion which should be crowned 
 with His temple — that Calvary which should receive the 
 mystery of the Cross. 
 
 Now, that the prospect of this development of His great 
 plan afforded Him profoimd satisfaction is evident, not only 
 from the Scriptures already quoted, but from the fact that 
 He has sought at times to throw His Church into an ecstasy 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETERNAL WISDOM. 109 
 
 of delight by affording tliem glimpses of its onward course. 
 All the sublime disclosures of j^ropliecy are merely glimpses 
 of that future on which His eye is perpetually fixed, and by 
 the prospect of which He would fain admit His people to a 
 fellbwship in His own delight. And all the satisfaction those 
 disclosures have ever yielded to an Abraham, who saw his 
 day and was glad — to a David, an Isaiah, an Ezekiel, a Paul, 
 a John, entranced with the vision to the whole Church, 
 which, having seen them afar off, were persuaded of them, 
 and embraced them, and died in exulting faith — all this is 
 only as a particle of the boundless joy which they have ever 
 set before Him. 
 
 3. There was the happiness of prospectively beholding the 
 effects arising from His gratuitous interposition for human 
 salvation. He enjoyed that. If, owing to no defect in the 
 original constitution of the great plan of Providence, any part 
 of that plan.be violated by man; and if, omng to no original 
 defect in man, but owing to his abuse of his necessary free 
 agency, that violation take place ; and if, therefore, without 
 any claim on the Divine interjDosition, the Mediator yet 
 determined to remedy the evil — to take advantage of it in a 
 way which shall accrue to the infinite good of the very beings 
 who had introduced the evil — who can picture His satisfac- 
 tion in the prospect of such a result? Accordingly, there 
 is a class of Scriptures which represents Him as rejoicing 
 in the prospect. Had sin brought the world into a crisis in 
 which the only alternative to its destruction was an exj^ia- 
 tory sacrifice which He alone could render? " Sacrifice and 
 offering,'' said He, " sacrifice and offering such as man can 
 provide, thou didst not desire; but a body hast thou pre- 
 pared for me. Lo, I come to give it a sacrifice, and to do 
 thy wiU, my God.'' Had sin depraved the race, and 
 reduced it to a state in which even that sacrifice by itself 
 would be unavailing? " I will pour out my Spirit upon all 
 flesh," saith He; "I will give them new hearts and inght 
 spirits." Had sin converted the earth into a vast sepulchre? 
 
110 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 " I will ransom them from the grave/' said He ; "0 death, I 
 will be thy plagues; grave, I will be thy destruction/' 
 Yes, even then, as He surveyed the waste and desolation 
 occasioned by sin, He that sat upon the throne proclaimed, 
 " Behold, I make all things new/' And as He said this. He 
 clearly foresaw what would be the fearful result if He were 
 not to interj^ose. The satisfaction which He felt, therefore, 
 in the contemplation of what He j^roj^osed to do, was height- 
 ened by the vivid contrast in which it stood before His 
 view with what must be the dreadful alternative if He did 
 not interpose. And when He anticipated the day in which 
 He should come to be glorified in His saints, and admired in 
 all them that believe; when the grateful strain of adoring- 
 myriads came on His ear, ascribing to Him salvation, and 
 honour, and glory, and power ; when, in addition to the many 
 crowns uj)on His head, He foresaw the myriads cast before 
 His feet; when He thus saw of the travail of His soul. He 
 was satisfied. 
 
 4. Then there was the happiness derivable from knowing 
 that, imj^ortant as the recovery of man is, in attaining it He 
 should he attaining an end greater still — attaining the 
 greatest of all ends, the manifestation of the Divine glory. 
 Now, if this end be so great that every other stands to it 
 only in the relation of means — if this is infinitely greater 
 than all other ends combined, the hapj^iness arising from the 
 attainment of it must be infinitely greater also. The hajipi- 
 ness flowing from the spectacle of a redeemed and happy 
 creation must be great ; for He knew, not only what would 
 l^e the exact measure of its happiness at this moment, but 
 hbw happy it will be ten thousand ages hence, when its capa- 
 city for happiness will have increased ten thousandfold, with 
 all the happiness it will have enjoyed in the interval, and so 
 on for ever. Tlie happiness again flowing from the fact that, 
 on account of L '^ncdiatorial work, He is the object of the 
 Father's infinite delight, is greater still. For He estimates 
 that complacency at its proper worth, which is infinite — 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD's ETERNAL AVISDOM. HI 
 
 absolutely infinite. But inconceivably liigh as He values tliat 
 complacency, more highly still does He value that glory for the 
 manifestation of which that complacency is accorded to Him. 
 The prospect of beholding a universe of dependent beings 
 hanging on independent All-sufficience — every heart a channel 
 through which a fulness of delight is constantly streaming 
 from the great central source, and every moment enlarging to 
 receive more — every sin forgiven, every evil remedied, every 
 want supplied — the whole reflecting and replenished with the 
 Divine glory — this is the consummation of that joy which is 
 set before Him. Much as He may delight in the favour of 
 Deity, He rates the glory of the Deity higher still ; for it is 
 that which gives, even to His favour, all its value ; so that 
 to be the means of manifesting it to the universe is the 
 crown of His mediatorial happiness, as it is the end of 
 creation. 
 
 II. 
 
 Now, if from the beginning the welfare of man, in harmony 
 with the Divine glory, has thus engaged the complacent 
 regard of the Mediator, we m^ay expect, secondly, that all His 
 communications and intercourse with us woidd he made to 
 harmonize with our welfare also. True, this expectation 
 takes it for granted that He foresaw the a230stasy and ruin of 
 man, otherivise we should not have known what course He 
 might have taken towards us. Great as His delight w^as in 
 the contemplation of man as innocent, what the view was 
 which He would take of us as guilty, unless He himself had 
 informed us, no finite mind could have possibly conceived. 
 But the prospective delight spoken of in the text is that v/hich 
 He felt in the contemplation of His intercourse with us as 
 ruined, in order to our recovery. Eelying, therefore, on His 
 wisdom and resources, we are warranted in expecting that all 
 His communications with us will harmonize with the wants 
 of our nature — that the means will be adajDted to the end. 
 Accordingly, the text implies that so perfect is the adaptation 
 
112 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 between tlie provisions of mercy and the necessity of man, 
 that he who rejects them ^vrongs his own soul — that he who 
 receives them receives life. 
 
 Tell us, then, we would say to an inquirer on the subject — 
 tell us the distinguishing ivants of human nature, and we will 
 tell you the distinguishing excellencies of Divine revelation. 
 Take a comprehensive survey of the hunian family, and say, 
 as an ancient prophet was sometimes bidden to say, " What 
 seest thou?'"* " A vast theatre, crowded with active beings.'^ 
 Consider them well and say, from what you behold, what 
 would you regard as their chief characteristics ? That they 
 are intelligent, suffering, guilty, and immortal beings. 
 
 1. From their eager inquiries and their signs of reflection, 
 you infer that they are intelligent beings, and from other signs 
 you infer that the subjects which most deeply interest them 
 are those which refer to their origin, their character, and their 
 relation to the invisible and the future. Need we remind you 
 what man's own unaided solutions of these problems are ? — 
 how puerile, how contradictory, how absurd ! But come and 
 see the Divine explanation of the mystery. Taking us back 
 to the creation of man, it declares that he was formed for 
 holiness and enjoyment — that as a free agent he was able to 
 stand, yet free to fall — that his guilt and misery originated in 
 a voluntary act of disobedience against God. And does not 
 this account for that feeling of which you ar3 often conscious 
 — of a dignity dej^arted, of a happiness blighted ? does it not 
 account for your moral conflicts and your yet lingering admi- 
 ration of spiritual excellence and worth ? Tearing away the 
 veil from your breast, it declares of your conscience that it is 
 a dethroned power, and of your heart that it is deceitful and 
 depraved, and of your nature that it is tainted in its springs 
 and principles ; and every fibre of your system thrills to the 
 truth of the appeal. It makes the statement universal — ^^vith 
 a bold and comprehensive generality, it declares, " There is 
 none righteous ; no, not one.'' With the fearlessness of a 
 wisdom which cannot err, and of a truth which cannot lie, it 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD's ETERNAL WISDOM. 113 
 
 affirms, " All have sinned, and come short of the glory of 
 God/' And not a single exception to the truth of the allega- 
 tion has ever appeared. Taking us into the presence of God 
 and rolling away the clouds from before His throne, it dis- 
 closes to us a being, not of natural merely, but of moral per- 
 fection — so holy, that it interprets all our fears of Him — so 
 just, that we wonder not at our past emotions of dread — and 
 yet so compassionate and gracious, that our utmost hopes 
 are infinitely surpassed ; while to all this it adds the infor- 
 mation of the existence of other orders of beings and of other 
 worlds, and tells us that it imparts the knowledge because 
 we are, personally, deeply interested in the solemn disclosure. 
 Yes, it has nothing for a vain curiosity — it trifles with no man 
 — its tones are earnest as the thunder, and it goes to its object 
 direct as the bolt of the lightning. 
 
 2. But look again on the human family, and say — AVhat 
 other characteristic do you regard as distinguishing them? 
 Do you not see the streaming tears of some, and hear the 
 groans of others, and mark the haggard looks and the bowed 
 and wasted forms of others ? and can you doubt that man is 
 a sufferer ? And say, before you mthdraw your eyes from 
 the moving spectacle, say — What do you see them ministering 
 to each other's relief? Do they tell the suff'erer of fixed, 
 irrevocable fate — advise him to front with defiance the ills 
 which he cannot escape — and, when he can bear no more, do 
 they help him to the dagger and the poison ? Do you see 
 them at least pointing him to the grave as the end of his 
 troubles ? Miserable comforters are they all ! And yet this 
 is all that the religion of the Pantheon, the Pagoda, the 
 Mosque, the Temple of Eeason can do for him. With this, 
 their resources of consolation are all exhausted. For sorrow, 
 in truth, has but two places of refuge — the sanctuary and the 
 grave. You have seen the latter — turn now to the former, 
 and see what God provides. Would it alleviate the distress 
 of the sufierer to know that he is not abandoned to a blind 
 chance and a relentless destiny ? The Bible draws aside the 
 
 H 
 
1]4 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 veil wliicli hides tlie spiritual world from our view; and, 
 behold, a vast scheme of providence administered by God 
 himself, in which every want is noticed — every object num- 
 bered — every being moving in the direct gaze of Omniscience. 
 Would the assurance of symj^athy lighten the sufferer's griefs ? 
 The Bible assures him that there is a sense in which every 
 earthly pang vibrates to the throne of God — thrills the very 
 heart of Divine compassion. Hence the Bible contains a 
 promise for every pang that rends — a solace for every throb 
 that beats in the human breast. Hence it brings the most 
 afflicted the nearest to the throne of grace — reserves for him 
 there the favoured place. Hence the Son of God himself 
 became a man of sorrows, that He might be able to succour 
 them that are tempted. Should it sustain the sufferer to 
 know that his trials may conduce to his moral improvement 
 here, and more still, to his blessedness hereafter? Let him 
 know that there are lines of relation between every sanctified 
 trial on earth and the highest throne in heaven. Would he 
 see the men who once had the world against them for their 
 attachment to Christ ? He must look for them now before 
 the throne of God. He will find them now, with a number 
 which no man can number, clad in robes of royalty, and 
 having palms of victory in their hands. Oh, blessed arrange- 
 ment, and worthy of a God, by which our light afflictions, 
 and but for a moment, can thus be made to work out for us 
 a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ! 
 
 3. But man is not merely a rational and a suffering being. 
 Look again on the restless crowds, and say by what other 
 marks are they distinguished ? What mean those altars, 
 ever-streaming blood — those keen self-ujDbraidings — those 
 cruel self-inflictions — that offer to sacrifice even the fruit of 
 the body for the sin of the soul ? Do they not all proclaim 
 a deep-seated sense of 2:>ersonal sinfulness — remorse, which 
 calls for atonement — self-dissatisfaction, which can be allayed 
 by nothing less than a new nature? And can it be, you 
 inq^uire, that the Mediator has made provision for these neces- 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 115 
 
 sities ? Yes, come with us, and we will sliew you a sight 
 which has already moved all heaven, and which is destined 
 to move all earth. We lead you to it through a long array 
 of types, and emblems, and impressive rites ; these are only 
 the august preparations for the event. Behold that cross, 
 and know that in the i)erson of Him who there expires you 
 see the Mediator himself — God manifest in the flesh. It was 
 our only means of escape from, destruction, and He volun- 
 tarily submits to it. To say that He foresaw this necessity, 
 is only saying that He is equal to the mediatorial ofllice. 
 And to say that He yet undertook that office voluntarily, is 
 only saying that He who is at the head of a system of free 
 agency is Himself a free agent. But that He should have 
 done this — that He who was co-equal with the Father should 
 have voluntarily subordinated Himself — that He who had 
 known no necessity but that of being, and of being what He 
 was, should have brought Hunself under obligation — that He, 
 who had kno^vn no relation but that of the ineffable union 
 of the Godhead, should bind Himself to sustain relations in- 
 finitely inferior — that He should in any sense have so come 
 forth from the Godhead as to enter into relations with the 
 creatures, and to bind Himself to do everything necessary for 
 their welfare — that He, the beginning of creation, should 
 range Himself in a line with His ovni creatures, subjecting 
 Himself to His own laws — and doing this for the express 
 purpose of dying — dying as an expiation for human guilt — 
 dying that justice might have a compensation to accept, and 
 that mercy might have forgiveness to bestow — these are 
 wonders resolvable only into the depths of infinite compas- 
 sion for us, and infinite regard for the Divine glory. This 
 was the joy which from eternity was set before Him ; and 
 hence you see Him enduring the cross, and despising the 
 shame. 
 
 Nor is this all ; the vicarious sacrifice of Christ, while pro- 
 viding a complete satisfaction for human guilt, provides that 
 which you equally require — means for the renovation of your 
 
116 THE VOICE OF GOD's ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 sinful nature, and motives to a constant progress in holi- 
 ness. You cannot look upon the cross of Christ, cannot 
 enter into its mediatorial design, without feeling that a virtue 
 comes out of it, that the Sjoirit is honouring and employing 
 it as the means of your renovation. Yes, so wonderfully 
 adapted to the suscejDtibilities, so exquisitely adjusted to all 
 the springs of our nature is the cross of Christ, that, in the 
 hand of the Spirit, it relieves our apprehensions, while it 
 quickens our sensibility — gives peace to the conscience, while 
 it increases its activity and power — inspires hope, while it pro- 
 duces humility, by the very magnitude and splendour of the 
 objects which inspire it — demands perfection, by presenting 
 the affections with an object calculated to produce it. 
 
 4. But man is not merely a rational, suffering, sinful being. 
 Cast another glance at the heaving and restless mass of 
 humanity, and you will find that it is groaning and travailing 
 together in pain, casting anxious looks on the future, gazing on 
 the distant darkness, invoking the dead, and that the burden of 
 its great anxiety is this — " If a man die, shall he live again V 
 We will not ask you to remember the vague and contradictory 
 replies which this question has received from human lioj^es and 
 fears. We will take you at once to Him who is the " Ee- 
 surrection and the Life." Do you see that form of majesty 
 standing at the mouth of the sepidchre, radiant with immor- 
 tality? That is He who was dead and is alive again, and 
 who liveth for evermore, and hath the keys of death and of 
 the invisible world. Do you mark that vision of dissolving 
 elements, of the rising dead, of the great white throne, of 
 the opened books, arid of the assembled universe ? It is the 
 representation of the final day, when you and all your race 
 will receive your eternal allotments, according to the deeds 
 done in the body. Do you feel a capacity for ever- advancing 
 excellence, a longing for ever-increasing happiness? The 
 heaven of the Bible is eternally set apart for both. There, 
 nothinir that defileth can enter. There, excellence will know 
 no pause in its progress from throne to throne, happiness no 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD's ETERNAL WISDOM. 117 
 
 interruiDtion to its ever-widening deepening stream. Thus 
 the Gospel liath brought life and immortality to light — 
 brought them from an unknown distance, and placed them 
 before us — brought heaven, with all its glories, into ou7^ hori- 
 zon — brought the very throne of judgment so near to us, 
 that whenever we will we can place ourselves before it — 
 surrounded us with the solemn pomp and the spiritual inha- 
 bitants of the unseen world — so surrounded us that they look 
 down on us, press in on us — that, do what we will, we feel 
 that we are moving under the powers of the world to come. 
 
 Now, such are parts of that great system of saving truth 
 by which the Saviour seeks to realize those purposes of mercy 
 towards us, the bare contemplation of which filled Him with 
 delight. So perfect is their adaptation in this respect, that 
 no one present can reject them without wronging his oivn 
 soul. Yes, his soul; his health may not suffer in conse- 
 quence, his worldly prosperity may not decline — but his soul, 
 the noblest part of his nature, is wronged. This whole sys- 
 tem of truth was meant for it, expressly constructed for his 
 soul, and his soul constructed for it — they were designed for 
 each other, so that, as long as he stands aloof from it, he is 
 wronging his own soul. Here is the rich inheritance — his 
 soul is the only part of him capable of enjoying it, and he is 
 wronging the immortal heir of its immortal inheritance. 
 And dying thus, the VvTong will be irretrievable, eternal. 
 He will ever carry about with him a T\Tonged soul ; for he 
 will for ever carry about in his soul some faculties unused, 
 capacities unfilled, powers undeveloj^ed ; for of the only thing 
 which could have developed and filled them, he wronged it. 
 The full extent of the wi^ono- he will never know. Thouoh 
 his sense of the wrong will be perpetually increasing, ten 
 thousand ages will have only partially revealed to him its 
 untold extent. 
 
 But then, in proportion to that loss if he neglect it, is 
 Ms gain if he find it — he finds life. Not merely existence, 
 but all that can enricli, expand, and make it infinitely 
 
118 THE VOICE OF GOD's ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 desirable — motives for all its actions, and objects for its 
 noblest affections. Not merely deliverance from death, bnt 
 its very opposite — tlie favour of the Lord. Finds himself 
 standing in the light of that favonr — sharing it with the 
 cherubim — sharing it with Christ himself Finds a world in 
 which to enjoy it : this world is too confined for it : it asks 
 the scope of infinity for its expansion. And after the lapse 
 of ten thousand ages, he will feel as if he were only just 
 commencing its enjoyment ; — it is the very crown of life. 
 
 Now, it was the perception of this happy result which 
 engaged the complacent regards of the Saviour from eternity. 
 He could not think of the human soul as defrauded of 
 happiness, and toiling for ever in its guilt, without com- 
 passion. And when He saw how perfectly adapted the whole 
 system of mediation was to meet the exigence — how, in effect, 
 it would give back God to the soul, and the soul to God ; 
 and when He thought of Himself as the medium for eff'ecting 
 this end — of all the happiness it would bring to man, and all 
 the glory it would cause to redound to God — His complacency 
 rose to infinite delight. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, thirdly, if from the beginning the Saviour has 
 rejoiced in the habitable part of the earth, and if He has 
 thus graciously adapted all his communications to its welfare, 
 may we not infer, must we not expect, that even of this 
 habitable part He would rejoice in some spots more than in 
 others, especially in such as are set apart for the diffusion of 
 His truth and the promotion of His designs 1 Under the 
 former economy. He commanded the erection of such a place, 
 superintended everything belonging to it, engaged that His 
 eye and His heart should be there ^perpetually, designated it 
 tlis own house, distinguished it with His richest blessing. 
 In the text we find Him inviting men to re2:)air to it, and 
 pronouncing a blessing on the man who was found " watch- 
 ing at his gates, waiting at the posts of his doors," And 
 
THE VOICE OP god's ETEENiVL AVISDO]\I. 119 
 
 tlie reason is obvious ; for, liaving an end to accomplish, He 
 values everything according to its tendency to jn'omote that 
 end. ■ And if He rejoices in the habitable part of the earth, 
 simply because it is to be the scene where that end is to be 
 attained, much more will He rejoice in any spot of its 
 inhabited regions actually devoted to that end — made sacred 
 to its attainment 
 
 For, think of the special relation which such a j^lace bears 
 to those gracious communications and purposes of which we 
 have been speaking. Those of you who are at all acquainted 
 with the constitution of the human mind need not be 
 informed that it is constructed to receive impressions from 
 everything around us — that the value of visible and sensible 
 objects consists chiefly in serving as memorials and emblems 
 of the spiritual and invisible — and that all our deepest and 
 noblest impressions should be received from these. Man 
 was to have moved over the face of the earth as amidst 
 the types and symbolic services of a temple, where every- 
 thing was adapted to remind him of God. His every 
 step was to bring him into the presence of some new 
 object, from which he should receive some fresh impres- 
 sion, reminding him of God But you need not be told 
 that sin has disturbed this adjustment, and thrown it 
 into confusion. The temple remains, but man is no longer 
 a worshipper. The objects remain, but not now as types 
 and symbols, but as realities and idols. The mind within 
 him retains its susceptibility of impression, but the imj)res- 
 sion no longer leads it up in humble adoration to God. For 
 him, that glorious Being, and the heaven He inhabits, and 
 all the realities of the invisible world have, in effect, ceased 
 to exist. He seldom visits them even in thought. The vast 
 circumference which he was meant to range through at will 
 has drawn in around him, like the shades of the evening, 
 into a narrower and yet narrower circle, until he lives in a 
 liorizon which can be measured — spanned. And, then, think 
 of the few objects of sense which this circle includes. By 
 
120 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETEENAL WISDOM. 
 
 being constantly present to his vietu, tliey are constantly 
 present to his mind, influencing, tyrannizing over him, 
 engrossing him all to themselves. 
 
 Now, clo you not see that if this state of things is to be 
 remedied, some counter-force, some antagonist jDrinciple 
 must be employed to make him aware of his condition ? Do 
 you not see that if this visible world is not to engross him 
 entirely to itself, the invisible must either open a communi- 
 cation with him, which shall acquaint him with its existence 
 and its claims upon him, or else, throwing off its invisible 
 character, and coming down from its unlvno^\m remoteness, 
 must burst uj^on him, and stand forth to his view an infinite 
 and an ever-2oresent reality ? Now, He who has undertaken 
 our salvation has clone this ; and the outline of truth which 
 we just now gave is a part of the grand result. 
 
 But how is the proper eff'ect of this Divine communication 
 to be secured ? True, God may have spoken, may be still 
 speaking to us ; but a thousand other voices are addressing 
 us also. How shall He obtain a hearing ? True, the invisible 
 may have made itself visible, but then it is only one visible 
 object among many. How shall it rivet attention ? Can no 
 place be set apart, no portion of time be secured for this 
 sjDGcial purjDOse? Can no circle be drawn, however small, 
 within the hallowed circumference of which man might 
 escape for a while from the objects of earth, and surrender 
 himself entirely to the influences of heaven ? Now, do you 
 not know that Cod has graciously answered this inquiry? 
 that besides other means, social and j^rivate, he has actually 
 made this provision, by the institution of the Sabbath and 
 the appointment of j^ublic worship ? Wise and gracious 
 appointment ! Oh, with what sacredness of character does 
 it invest the sanctuary ! Here heaven takes refuge from 
 earth, that it may afterwards go forth and take possession 
 of earth. Here wisdom makes her home, not to keep religion 
 from the world, but to keep the world from defeating religion. 
 Here wisdom stands and cries, " ye children, hear instruc- 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 121 
 
 tion, and be wise ; blessed is the man that hearc-th me : " 
 not that she refuses to go to Ms home ; but, luith a view 
 to that, she invites him to her ow7i home. Her subject 
 demands a patient, prayerful hearing ; and she prepares a 
 sanctuary expressly for the pnrj)ose. In the world, if you 
 are ever visited by thoughts and vague imaginings which 
 relate to the soul and eternity, surrounding objects speedily 
 melt and scatter them into thin air ; but here you come to 
 have your hopes explained, your fears interpreted, your 
 impressions deepened, your vague conceptions turned into 
 definite realities. There, you witness crime and suffering, 
 and sometimes shrink at them, and pronounce them un- 
 paralleled ; here, you are to see the gulf of perdition ya^vn, 
 and the unquenchable flames break forth at your feet, and 
 to hear the cries of those whose torments are unjmralleled, 
 and to be reminded that you yourself are in danger of these. 
 There, you may hear of kindness, and sometimes experience 
 it, and perhaps feel at a loss how adequately to acknowledge 
 it, as if, forsooth, you knew of none greater ; but here, you 
 are to be told of a love so great that all the kindness of earth 
 is only a type of it, and all your capacity for gratitude only 
 intended to help you to apprehend it, to enable you by 
 sympathy to get just a glimpse of it. There, you mingle 
 with those who think and who live only for the present, 
 and you are in danger of living like them ; here, the past 
 and the future meet you, the distant draws near, the infinitely 
 High comes do^\ii — all the influences of the invisible vrorld 
 collect, and descend, and settle round you. Yes, here you 
 " come unto Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem,'' for this 
 is none other than the house of God, the ffate of heaven. 
 Here you "come to an innumerable company of angels." 
 Do you not know that tJiey are impatient to rejoice over your 
 rej^entance? You apj^roach "the general assembly and 
 church of the first-born, who are written in heaven.'' Should 
 you not feel the unearthly grandeur of the distiuction ? should 
 it not eclipse the little tinsel dignities of the world without ? 
 
122 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 You draw near to *' God the judge of all/' Will you not 
 plead guilty before Him, and deprecate His displeasure? 
 And rejoice to find tliat here too you "come to Jesus, the 
 mediator of the new covenant/' Will you not approach and 
 entreat Him to mediate for you ? He expects it — He is here 
 expressly to espouse your cause. And do you not see the 
 argument which He is prepared to plead in your behalf — 
 nay, which pleads itself, — " The blood of sprinkling, which 
 speaketh better things than that of Abel,'' which antici- 
 pates your speaking, which speaks for you before you speak 
 for yourself, and on accomit of which alone you can be 
 heard ? 
 
 Oh, with what sacredness of character is the sanctuary in- 
 vested ! You come here to be treated as rational, suffering, 
 sinful, and immortal beings — beings whose happiness was 
 contemplated and provided for before the foundations of the 
 world — yea, even before the first creative fiat was issued — 
 before the material of which this fabric is built had come 
 into existence. The geologist would take you down to the 
 foundations of the earth, and tell you, as you stood on the 
 primeval granite, that you vvere standing on a monument of 
 incalculable, dateless antiquity. But the Bible refers you to 
 a period more ancient still — announces that when as yet the 
 earth was not made, before the mountains were settled or 
 the hills brought forth, your welfare had occuj^ied the Eter- 
 nal Mind — that when He gave to the sea His decree, and ap- 
 pointed the foundations of the earth, that then He rejoiced 
 in the habitable parts of the earth — that if He formed the 
 uninhabitable, it was for the sake of the inhabitable — the 
 physical for the rational — the material for the spiritual. So 
 that even the material of which your sanctuary is built, date- 
 less as its antiquity may be, may be regarded as having been 
 brought into being for its present purpose — as now contri- 
 buting to a purpose more ancient than its ovn\ existence. 
 An end, indeed, it has always been answering — as a part of 
 the material globe, it has always been contributing by the 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETERNAL WISDOM. 123 
 
 law of attraction to link our earth to all the worlds that 
 move in space. But now, without ceasing to assist to link 
 one material globe to another, by being built into a house 
 for God, it is indirectly to assist in linking earth to heaven. 
 Did He rejoice prospectively in the habitable parts of the 
 earth — the parts which men should inhabit — how much 
 more would He rejoice in the parts which He himself should 
 inhabit I the places which they would build that He, "the 
 Lord God, might dwell among them !" 
 
 Oh, when you have looked at times on a map of the globe, 
 and your eye has glanced awhile from pole to pole, have you 
 ever failed to turn with interest to your own, your native 
 land ? And if, besides your country, you could recognize the 
 city or the town where you dwelt, was not your interest 
 deepened ? But if, in addition to that, the very spot of your 
 residence could have been denoted, that would have rendered 
 your interest deeper still. Brethren, a map there is which 
 from eternity has been ever extended before the eye of God. 
 In that map of the universe, the orbit of every star, the path 
 of every planet, and, therefore, of our earth, is traced ; and 
 as often as His eye rested on the habitable parts, so often did 
 He rejoice with an infinite joy. Could you be allowed at this 
 moment to look on it, and to have your eye directed towards 
 the spot where we now stand — think you that you would 
 have to look for it in vain ? What ! mans habitations de- 
 noted, and His own house omitted ! Rather should the most 
 renowned cities of earth be omitted. Yes, rather than the 
 humblest spot where prayer is wont to be made should be 
 left out, all the palaces, and halls, and gilded domes of earth 
 should be for ever omitted. But no, you would not look for 
 it in vain. You would find it denoted by a point of light — 
 you would see it marked by a ray of glory. And as you re- 
 member that there it had stood to His foreseeing eye from 
 eternity — and as you glanced from it to behold the light of 
 His countenance, and saw that His eye was fixed and resting 
 complacently on it — would you not feel that it was invested 
 
124 THE VOICE OF GOD's ETEENAL WISDOM, 
 
 with an infinite sacredness and imj^ortance ? Brethren, more 
 than this is true. He does not confine Himself to looking 
 on — He cannot content Himself with looking down upon you 
 from an unknown height, however compL^cently ; nor could 
 you be content that He shoulcL Have you not invited — 
 invoiced His presence ? Has He not often descended ; is He 
 not now present — present to record His name here — present 
 to lay His commands on you afresh, and to re2>eat His pro- 
 mises, as if He were now uttering them for the first time ? 
 To the Church He is saying, " As often as you meet here in 
 my name, I will be in the midst of you/' And to the minister 
 He is saying, " Feed the Church which I have purchased with 
 my o^vn blood ; and as to the unconverted, beseech them, in 
 my stead, to be reconciled to Crod/' And concerning the 
 young, He is saying to minister and people, "Here bring 
 them to me, that I may bless them. Here let me see of the 
 travail of my soul and be satisfied. From eternity I have 
 rejoiced in the prospect of what I now behold, for I have 
 ever beheld it in its relation to my purposes of mercy ; and 
 now mine eye is fixed on its distant issue in the eternity to 
 come. Here let my gospel be faithfully proclaimed, and prac- 
 tically exemplified ; and my joy shall be perpetuated and 
 auoinented for ever/' 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then, fourthly, let this remind us of what He may he sup- 
 2')osed to expect from a place thus distinguished. Of course 
 when we speak of the ^j?«ce in such a connexion, we can only 
 intend the people who meet in it. For them it exists ; and 
 to them all the jiurposes of mercy with which its walls may 
 echo have been addressed. 
 
 1st, He expects you to sympatldze luith Him in his re- 
 gard for human happiness. If He has taken you into His 
 counsels, and shewn you that from eternity He has delighted 
 in the sons of men, it is in order to inspire you with the 
 same emotions. If He has shewn you the studied adaptation 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETERNAL WISDOM. 125 
 
 of His Gospel to the wants of intelligent, suffering, sinful, 
 immortal man — it is that you may look abroad on your i^erish- 
 ing race with a yearning desire to apply the remedy. If He 
 has called you to a participation of His grace — it is that you, 
 in employing His Gospel as the instrument of human salva- 
 tion, may act with confidence in its sufficiency — it is that, 
 constrained by His love, there may be no limits set to your 
 efforts for His glory. If He has shewn you how He from 
 eternity has devoted His vast resources to the welfare of man 
 — it is that you, if possible, may be shamed out of the idea of 
 devoting less than your all to the same object. We are 
 called to be the i^epresentatives of His grace to the world ; 
 and are our powers so capacious, our natm-es so exalted, that 
 less than the consecration of the whole should be able to con- 
 vey an idea of His grace? Oh, if He has organized his 
 j)eoj)le into a Church — it is partly because no individual 
 Christian, whatever his devotedness may be; no single 
 separate society of Christians, though each member were a 
 Paul, an ApoUos, or a Cephas ; nothing less than the ivhole 
 body of Christians, strengthened by union, fired with mutual 
 emulation, with their energies compacted and concentrated 
 into the force of a single power — can ever represent the unity 
 of His design for human salvation, and the entireness of His 
 devotion to its accomplishment. To save the world was His 
 vocation, His supreme and single object ; so that, in order to 
 represent Him, His people must make it their one business 
 and calling to carry out His gracious design. 
 
 2dly, He expects you then to aim at results, and to look 
 for them. It is the prospect of these which has ever filled 
 Him with delight. Think you that He would have rejoiced 
 in the habitable parts of the earth— that He himself would 
 have visited the earth — would have become the Son of man 
 — would have said, in reference to His sacrificial death, 
 "How am I straitened until it be accomplished ! ''—unless 
 He could have confidently calculated on adequate residts? 
 And you know what these are — the manifestation of the 
 
126 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETEENAL WISDOM. 
 
 Divine glory in liuman salvation. Some of these results He 
 is looking for here; and He requires that you should aim at 
 them, and expect them. Expect them — and it will impart a 
 unity, a sanctity, and a power to all your religious endeavours. 
 Expect Divine success — and so far from being surprised, as 
 many a Church would be by its coming, you will be restless 
 and dissatisfied unless and until it does come. Exj^ect it — • 
 and you will pray for it. The reason why conversions are 
 not prayed for, or, if prayed for, why so many Christians are 
 content that their prayers should not be answered is, that 
 they do not expect the blessing; they have, in a sense, out- 
 lived the exj^ectation. But expect it — and not only will it 
 give a directness to your appeals, and a holy energy to yom^ 
 efforts — not only will it keep alive your tenderest sympathies 
 for the unconverted — it will often take you to the throne of 
 grace ; for you will feel your entire dependence on the Spirit 
 of God, and there will you wrestle with Him for the success 
 you desire. Expect it — the Saviour will — He will continue 
 to come here, seeking fruit — the precious, precious fruit of 
 His sufferings and death. And shall He be disappointed? 
 Nothing less than souls converted, sinners saved, will satisfy 
 Him; nothing less than this will satisfy those of His people 
 even who know you, and take an interest in your welfare — 
 and shall less satisfy you? But this sujDposes the activity of 
 all — their personal activity; not their wishes merely, nor 
 even their property. The same Being who tells us, in one 
 part of the text, that He had taken prospective delight in 
 tlie children of men, so far from confining Himself to an 
 inactive survey, is next heard inviting the world to assemble 
 around Him for instruction — sending out His messengers, 
 and, with a sacred violence, compelling men to come in. 
 And shall not His people imitate His examjDle? 
 
 4th, Finally — anticijyate consequences. Not only expect 
 the results of which we have spoken, hut anticipate the conse- 
 quences of those results. These I would fain leave to your 
 own private reflections. And could I only insure that you 
 
THE VOICE OF GOD S ETERNAL WISDOM. 127 
 
 would, on retiring, ponder them awhile, and then give utter- 
 ance in prayer to the emotions they would inspire, I should 
 thank God for the effect produced. I will only remind you 
 that the consequences of which I speak will reach through 
 eternity; that, as the eye of Christ has, through all the past, 
 been fixed on the present, so now from the present, as from 
 the summit of a moral elevation, it is taking a survey of all 
 the eternal consequences. And does the sight delight Him ? 
 The messages that will continue to be here delivered — the 
 prayers that will be offered — the liberality and zeal which 
 will still be manifested — the souls that will be converted — 
 the summing up of the whole in the last great day — and 
 then the consequences through all the everlasting future — He 
 foresees the whole ; and, as He looks on it, is He satisfied? 
 
 No! "The end is not yet!" — not even the end of the 
 services which are past. They are to shed an influence on 
 all the future ; they are to mingle as a moral element in all 
 your future history ; they are to reproduce themselves over 
 and over again ; they will reappear in other services of the 
 sanctuary — in many a season of reflection — in many a dying 
 hour — in the fimai day; yes, they will reappear in heaven or 
 in hell; in the one, in the hoarse and aggravated accents of 
 self-reproach — in the other, in the songs of the harpers, harp- 
 ing with their harps. In this sense, your services here will 
 open an eternity. Brethren, your sanctuary opens out on 
 eternity. Like a house fronting the boundless sea, this house 
 stands fronting eternity — looks out on the infinite future. Of 
 every seed which is here sown the produce will have to be 
 reaped in eternity. And on that produce it is that the eye 
 of Christ is at this moment fixed. Oh, could we mark His 
 looks as He regards it! Saviour, art thou satisfied? Why 
 gathers that expression of ineffable concern in Thy gracious 
 looks? What hearest Thou — what seest Thou in that dis- 
 tant future? The souls of some here — lost? Lost! But is 
 their loss inevitable? Canst Thou not dictate some message 
 which shall arrest them? Will prayer avail? Will tears — 
 
128 THE VOICE OF GOD'S ETERNAL WISDOM. 
 
 will efforts avail? And wliy does Thy countenance brighten 
 again? Dost Thou see the brands plucked out of the burn- 
 ing? And by our instrumentality? And art Thou satisfied? 
 In Thy satisfaction shall we find our heaven. 
 
 Brethren, farewell. Act on the firm conviction, that every 
 prayer you offer — every gift you i^resent — every effort you 
 make for His glory, will heighten His Divine delight — will 
 brighten those eternal consequences of which we have spoken 
 — will enhance your own delight for ever. Act on the con- 
 viction now; and may God give His blessing. Amen, 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 129 
 
 SEEMON VI. 
 
 THE SECOND ADAM THE LOKD FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 1 Cor. XV. 45-47 — "And so it is -written, The first man Adam was made 
 a living' soul ; tlie last x4dam a life-givinc^ Spirit. Howbeit that was not 
 first which is spiritual, but that which is natural ; and afterward that 
 which is spiritual. The first man is of the earth, earthy; the second 
 man is the Lord from heaven." 
 
 Two men licave trod the eartli — two real historical men. 
 Before the first of them died, his posterity had multiplied to 
 thousands — myriads; but what are they all to us compared 
 to that ''first man?'' Since then, millions have succeeded 
 in every age; but what are they all to us compared to that 
 ''second man ?" The first man himself is as nothing compared 
 with the second — acquires all his real importance from his 
 relation to the second. I look at the first, and I see him 
 made a living soul. I Icolv at the second, and I behold Him 
 m.aking, creating, as a life-imparting Spirit. I look at the 
 first, and I see everything around him withering, dying — all 
 his posterity falling into the dust. I look at the second, 
 and behold, He is standing at the great grave of humanity, 
 and the dead are starting into life around Him. " The first 
 man is of the earth, earthy; the second man is the Lord from 
 heaven." 
 
 Now, in enlarging on the peculiar view which is here 
 presented of our Lord as " the second man, from heaven" it 
 is proper to advert, first, to His relations to the first man, or 
 
 I 
 
130 THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 to the necessity which arose for His coming. And here I 
 need not remind you at any length of the importance attached 
 by the Ahnighty to the introduction upon the earth of the 
 first man. Imagine an analogous case ; imagine that one of 
 the planets on which, in the stillness of evening, your eye has 
 often rested, and which, for untold ages, has been pursuing 
 its silent course in the heavens, was about to become, for the 
 first time, the habitation, not of beings from other worlds, 
 but of a new race of intelligent beings — creatures of a kind 
 hitherto unknown to the universe of God ; that they were to 
 go on multiplying for ages ; that, as their history advanced, 
 it would be marked by unheard-of events — would be the 
 means of developing new principles of the Divine govern- 
 ment, new aspects of the Divine character ; and that the first 
 of the race about to be created would sustain, in some way, a 
 relation to all that should follow, which should shed a pecu- 
 liar influence on the whole through all duration: conceive 
 of such a case, and you can easily imagine that it would bo 
 an event calculated to draw to itself the interest and to rivet 
 on it the attention of the universe. 
 
 Now, such was actually the interest — however unexciting 
 the subject may have become to us through familiarity — such 
 was the interest which attached to the introduction of the 
 first man upon the earth. There never had been a moment 
 in the past eternity when his coming was not present to the 
 mind of God. His constitution was to be a novelty in crea- 
 tion, for it was to combine in one the laws of matter and of 
 mind — it was to be a spirit incarnate; and there never Avas 
 a moment when that constitution was not designed and 
 present to the mind of God. •' In thy book all his members 
 were written, when as yet there was none of them."'' And if 
 the outlines of man's physical structure were thus sketched 
 and laid down, how much more may we suppose the capa- 
 cities and powers of the indwelluig soul to have been present 
 to the creating ^lind ! 
 
 Hence, too, the earth had all along been building and 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 131 
 
 preparing by God, with a view to the coming of man. Man 
 was not made for the world; the world, from the first, had 
 been made for man. From the time when the fomidations 
 of the earth were laid, the Great Builder had never lost 
 sight of the designed constitution of the human inhabitant. 
 Eor him the Creator had " weighed the very mountains in 
 scales, and the hills in a balance.'' It was to be the place for 
 the education of his new made mind; and hence all its objects 
 were formed, and placed, and numbered, to arrest his eye and 
 engage his attention. His discovery of its natural laws was 
 to constitute much of his science ; his application of these 
 laws was to be his art and occupation. It was to be his 
 temple for worship. Wherever he looked he was to find him- 
 self surrounded by the symbols of the Godhead. Every object 
 on which his eye could rest was to be either an altar of 
 memorial or an offering to be laid on it. Nay, the earth 
 itself, as it went speeding through space, what was it to be 
 but an altar at which he was to be perpetually ministering? 
 In 2'>T0spect of the event, one can almost hear the sons of God, 
 as they press towards Eden, shouting for joy, for the Triune 
 God has at length said, " Let us make man in our own image.'" 
 And when he was made, one can almost conceive that he sees 
 them joining the new made man in his first act of homage, 
 mingling their worship with his, already aiding him as 
 "ministering spirits," rejoicing in the anticipation that 
 henceforth God will be served on earth as in heaven. 
 
 But besides being a school for his education, and a temple 
 for his worship, earth is to be the scene of man's probation. 
 It could not be otherwise. By his very constitution he is a 
 subject of moral government, and therefore everything volun- 
 tary he may do will inevitably be right or wrong. In a sense 
 earth was planted over with trees of the knowledge of good 
 and evil. " Thou shalt," or " thou shalt not," was inscribed 
 on everything. Man's happiness was made to depend on his 
 obedience. It could not be otherwise. For, as a moral 
 being, he is a law unto himself. His nature is a system of 
 
132 THE SECOND ADMl THE LOED FEOM HEAVEK 
 
 laws; and sin is the violation of them all. So that, even if 
 God were not to interfere, sin would, notwithstanding, prove 
 to be destruction. From the moment of his creation, the first 
 man enclosed within himself, so to speak, a whole system of 
 moral government — laws, and judge, arid prison, and instru- 
 ments of torture, if he disobeyed ; rewards, and happmess, and 
 conscious improvement, if he obeyed. One of the benevolent 
 dpsigns of the first command was to teach him this ; to make 
 him aware what a nature he possessed; to impress him v/itli 
 the great truth that, in a lofty sense, he was given into his 
 own hands; that sin would be followed by toil, and suffering, 
 and death; that obedience would be crowned by rewards, 
 converting earth into heaven. And still more, of that pro- 
 bation, if successful, his posterity are to reap the advantage. 
 He the model of holy obedience; they co]3ying his bright 
 example. He invested with the lordship of the world; and 
 they sharing the inheritance with him. He their head and 
 rcj)resentative with God; and they glorifying God in him. 
 How magnificent the prospect' How glorious the j^ossi- 
 bility! 
 
 But what if the new-made man should abuse his freedom? 
 What if the ]}ossihility of his sinning should become a fear- 
 ful reality ? Who can foresee the tremendous consequences? 
 Brethren, you know the dreadful result. The hour of trial 
 came, and he fell. A law was given him ; and, oh, better had 
 a star fallen from its sphere, and been falling still ! he broke 
 away from the sacred restraints of that law — deranged the 
 harmony of his own nature — disturbed the tranquillity of the 
 universe — incurred the penalty of transgression. Attempt 
 not to extenuate his guilt. You admit that evil must result 
 from the infraction of a natural law; and is moral law less 
 important ? You admit that the least deviation of the earth 
 from its orbit would be followed by physical disorder and 
 ruin to an unknoT^ai extent. But here is a being, into whose 
 hand the earth itself has been given, outraging moral law, 
 bringmg himself into actual collision with the great Law-giver. 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 133 
 
 What but retribution can ensue ? To rectify the evil himself, 
 is an absolute impossibility. Even perfect obedience for 
 the future, were that within his power, would not avail ; for 
 that would have been due independently of his sin. And 
 what if the evil should go on diffusing itself through his 
 nature till it has taken possession of the whole, and has re- 
 duced him to " a body of sin and death''? And what if the 
 same polluting leaven should leaven the whole mass of 
 humanity, which is to descend from him ? What if its hand 
 should come daily to pluck forbidden fruit, and its tongue to 
 utter deceit, and its feet be swift to shed blood, and all its 
 members become instruments of unrighteousness unto sin? 
 What if it should complete its degradation and its guilt by 
 calling the worship of its own vices, religion — the thraldom of 
 Satan, liberty? All this, remember, was involved in the ten- 
 dency of the first sin, and was all present to the mind of 
 God. What! and shall man succeed in unmaking himself? 
 Shall it never be known how holy and excellent he could 
 have become ? Shall man never see his own nature in per- 
 fection ; never see the Divine as it was meant to shine forth 
 in the human .? Shall God never again behold His own 
 image in man ; never be honoured in His human workman- 
 ship? One thing is certain, that if ever the ideal of 
 humanity is to be realized, there must be a second man. 
 One thing is clear, that the first man can never be a fair ex- 
 emplar to his posterity of v/hat humanity should be; and that 
 if it be important for them to have before their eyes a perfect 
 model, there must be a second man. The first man has lost 
 the lordship of the world ; and if it ever be recovered for his 
 descendants, it can only be by a second man. By " one man 
 sin hath entered into the world, and death by sin ; and so 
 death will pass upon all men, for that all will sin f and if 
 ever that sin be expiated, and that death abolished, and 
 man is to have an adequate representative and head, it can 
 only be by the coming of a second man ! And from the 
 hour in which His coming was first promised, everything 
 
]oi THE SECOND ADA^I THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 was kept in suspense, and waited for liim, or proclaimed aloud 
 the necessity of His advent. 
 
 11. 
 
 Let us observe, secondly, liow remarkably everything sup- 
 posed His coming, or prepared for it. We have seen that, 
 before the creation of the first man, everything looked for- 
 wards to Him. All nature was preconfigured to Him. All 
 its laws were mute predictions of what He would be, physi- 
 cally and mentally, at least, if not morally. A being of lofty 
 intelligence could have foretold much respecting man's con- 
 stitution, from the very structure of the earth which was pre- 
 paring for him. It was a kind of cypher in the handwriting 
 of God, of which the human being was to be the key and 
 interpreter. But from the moment in which man fell from 
 his high estate, everything began to presignify the coming 
 of the second man. Turning from the first man, everything 
 rose in importance and acquired a new value, by pointing to 
 the second. From that hour, the first man himself fell into 
 the processional train of objects and events which preceded 
 and heralded the second ; he became, says the Apostle, " the 
 figure of Him that tvas to come." The ijvomise that the 
 second head of the human race should, in some peculiar 
 sense, be luoman-'born — what did it intimate but that were 
 it not for his destined birth, no human beino's should be ever 
 born ? that but for the fact that " a body was to be 23repared 
 for him/' the multiplication of the species was already at an 
 end? The promise of His coming decided henceforth the 
 cliaracter and destiny of man ; divided the race into two 
 classes — those who believed His coming, and those who be- 
 lieved it not. The law of His coming took precedence of 
 every other ; held on its sovereign way through the Semitic 
 division of the human race, the Abrahamic branch of that 
 division, the tribe of Judah in that branch, the family of 
 David in that tribe. It was when the great fact was dis- 
 closed to David, of His being a progenitor of the second 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FROM HEAVEN. 185 
 
 Adam — when the grand truth flashed full on his astonished 
 mind — that he uttered that wondering exclamation (the force 
 of which our translation destroys), "What am I, Lord 
 Jehovah, and what my house, that thou hast brought me to 
 this exaltation. . . . This is the law of the Adam, Lord 
 Jehovah V Or, as it is given in the first book of the Cliro- 
 nicles, " Thou has regarded me according to the order of the 
 Adam from above, Jehovah God I" To this adorino- Ian- 
 giiage it is that the Apostle alludes in our text. For, says 
 another of the Aj^ostles, " David, being a prophet, knew that 
 God had sworn with an oath to him, that of the fruit of his 
 loins He would raise up the Messiah to sit upon his throne.'' 
 The oath of His coming was the only oath which proceeded 
 directly from the mouth of God ; nothing else was of sufficient 
 importance to deserve the solemnity; and the fulfilment of this 
 oath included the fulfilment of every other engagement, and 
 secured it. The prediction of His coming was the great text 
 of all propthecy. It was the subject which first opened the lips 
 of prophecy. It was placed in the front, or laid at the basis, 
 both of the patriarchal and the Jewish dispensations. The 
 theocracy existed for it. Its utterance mingled with the 
 solemnities of death-bed benedictions. The darkness of 
 Sinai was irradiated by it. The hallowed grandeur of the 
 first temple invested it. Its fulfilment was to impart a sur- 
 passing glory to the second temj)le. Were the reigns of 
 David and Solomon of unusual splendour ? that splendour 
 was wreathed by the hand of prophecy into a halo for the 
 diadem of Messiah. Is one prophet called to survey a wide 
 field of broken thrones and of powers overturned ? it is that 
 he may direct attention to " the desire of all nations," emerg- 
 ing amidst the ruins. Does another behold, in vision, the 
 great monarchies of the earth succeeding each other ? it is 
 that he may fix all eyes on a King and a kingdom destined 
 to absorb all power and glory — one " like the Son of man " 
 coming and receiving universal and lasting dominion. What- 
 ever the national calamity might be, a reference to His 
 
136 THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 coming brouglit every harp from the willow, and converted a 
 national lament into a national hosanna. Whatever the im- 
 mediate subject of a prophecy might be, no transition, how- 
 ever sudden, was deemed abrupt or uninteUigible which 
 introduced him. Like the Alps or the Andes, seen from 
 every part of a vast continent, this subject towered above 
 every other, and was seen from every part of the wide field 
 of prophetic vision. " To Him gave all the prophets witness."'' 
 From the shadowy outline sketched of Him in the first pro- 
 mise, the hand of j^rophecy had never ceased adding feature 
 after feature, till now the grand portraiture was comj^lete — 
 the likeness of the Son of man — the second man. The con- 
 summation of all the great designs and j)romises of God was 
 referred to the time of His coming ; and his familiar designa- 
 tion came to be, " the Comer,'' " Him that is to come,'' as 
 if the coming of everything else — the coming of futurity 
 itself — depended on His coming. 
 
 Still more; from the history and condition of the luorld, 
 the constitution and offices of " the second man " might have 
 ^)een inferred. Before the coming of the first man, every- 
 thing looked forwards to him. From the time of the Fall 
 everything symbolized and supposed the coming of the 
 second man. Everything assumed a position pointing, pre- 
 confiofured to him. The first sinner himself — I hear him 
 cdnvicted and denounced; why is he not destroyed? why 
 kept in being? Another Adam is coming to expiate his 
 guilt, and remedy the evil. His sinful posterity — I see them 
 rapidly increase in numbers, but more rapidly in guilt ; why, 
 when punishment overtakes them, is it always arrested in its 
 course, always partial in its infliction ? A second man is on 
 the way to endure and to exhaust it for them. Sinai is 
 kindled and the law proclaimed ; but why this, when man 
 has made himself notorious chiefly as its transgressor? 
 Another is expected to fulfil it. I pass into the land of 
 Canaan, and find it cleared of its ancient heathenism, and 
 pUnted over with types and symbols ; who is to be the anti- 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 137 
 
 type of all these figures, the substance of all these shadows ? 
 I pass into the temple, but everything I see is pointing to the 
 future; here is an altar, but where is the sacrifice? for "the 
 blood of bulls and of goats cannot take away sin ;'"' here is a 
 sanctuary, but the entrance is closed, the veil is down; and 
 worshijDpers, but they are all in the posture of unsatisfied ex- 
 pectation. And here, on Zion, is an empty throne. Every- 
 thing appears unfinished and waiting. Everything intimates 
 that if those sacrifices are to end in a real atonement ; if that 
 veil is to be rent; those worshippers to be satisfied; that 
 throne to have a rightfid occupant, there must be a second 
 man, from heaven; and hence religion itself consisted in 
 hopmg for Him. Every office, whether of prophet, priest, or 
 king, owed its existence and importance to Him; was hollow, 
 and empty, and destitute of value, except in proportion as it 
 referred to Him. Every king was a usurper, a rebel, but as 
 he held authority for Him ; every priest an idolater, but as his 
 office typified Him; every prophet an impostor, but as he 
 predicted Him. 
 
 The moral condition of the world involuntarily cried out 
 for Him. Civilization, indeed, might go on assuming new 
 forms, and developing new powers, but all tended to plunge 
 man deeper in evil, except as it referred to His coming and 
 kingdom. Apart from Him, all its pretended pleasures were 
 but mitigations and. concealments of its misery ; all its trea- 
 sures, but a thin veil cast over its real poverty ; all its reli- 
 gious inventions, but substitutes for Him, or confessions of 
 its ignorance respecting Him ; all its sufferings, but instal- 
 ments of its future doom, if not rescued by Him. 
 
 He himself is represented as prophetically anticipating 
 the duties and offices which the wants of the world would 
 require from Him. Thus, as sin had brought the world to 
 an hour, in which the only alternative to its destruction was 
 a sacrifice which He alone could render, " Lo, I come,'' said 
 He, "a body hast thou* pre j)ared me ; lo, I come to give it 
 as a sacrifice, and to do thy will, my God ! " Had sin so 
 
138 THE SECOND AD AIM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 depraved the race, that even that sacrifice by itself would be 
 unavailmg ? "I will pour out my Spirit/' saith He, " I will 
 give them new hearts and right spirits." Sin was rapidly 
 converting the earth into a vast sepulchre ; "but I will 
 ransom them from the grave/' said He ; "0 death, I will be 
 thy i^lagues ; grave, I will be thy destruction ! " And all 
 thino-s waited, and travailed in birth for His comino;. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, thirdly, let us mark the conditions which devolved 
 on Him, and which He fulfilled as the second man, when 
 He did come. Great — as we have seen — great were the 
 preparations made for the coming of the first man ; and vast 
 was the importance attached to it by God. But far loftier 
 is the interest which invests the coming of the second. The 
 world has been sj)ared on the ground of it. Judea has been 
 set apart as the theatre of the great event. The angels of 
 God hold themselves in readiness to behold it. Unnumbered 
 eyes are watching for His coming ; unnumbered interests 
 depending on it. 
 
 1. And "when the fulness of time was come, God sent 
 forth his Son, made of a woman/' This was the first con- 
 dition fulfilled. He assumed the very nature of the first 
 man — of the fallen head of the human race. Though " He 
 was in the form of God, and thought it not robbery to be 
 equal vfith God, he was yet found in fashion as a man." 
 "He came in the flesh." "The Word was made flesh, and 
 dwelt amongst us." By an amazing act of self-reduction, 
 he became the Son of man — the second man. 
 
 2. But if He assume the nature of man, it devolves on Him 
 to conform to all the laws, physical and moral, whicli are 
 binding on man. He fulfilled this condition. He asked for 
 no new laws, no exemjotion from, no relaxation of existing 
 laws. He deprecated the idea that he had " come to destroy 
 the law;" declared that he had come to fulfil it; put a 
 spiritual interpretation on it ; enlarged its jurisdiction ; set 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 139 
 
 Himself apart to magnify it ; placed all His powers at its 
 disposal. Think, what He found mankind generally doino- 
 with those powers, and how He shewed what might be done 
 with them ; what compassion might beam from those eyes, 
 what grace might flow from those lips, what blessings might 
 fall from those hands ; and how He thus convicted the first 
 man, and all his sinful posterity, and vindicated the Maker of 
 the human frame ! 
 
 3. But not only must He obey ; His obedience must be a 
 trial, a probation. He fulfilled this condition. " He suffered 
 being tempted.'' "Though he were a Son, yet learned he 
 obedience by the things which he suffered." But did not 
 His Divinity protect His humanity ? — j)i'<^^^ct it in the sense 
 of making it j^hysically and absolutely impossible that He 
 should fall into sin? Unquestionably not. To say that 
 His human nature was originally sinless, negatively holy, is 
 only saying that, in this respect, He was placed on a level 
 with the first man. But, as to its union with the Divine 
 nature, that was of a kind to leave it human still — its free 
 agency unimpaired, all its original properties untouched, its 
 conditions entire. That this is a great mystery, is admitted. 
 But the mystery begins in your own nature, in that wonder- 
 ful union of body with sjoirit, which leaves the material j^art 
 under all the laws of matter, and yet brings it under ad- 
 ditional spiritual' laws. Till you can clearly exjolain this 
 enigma of your own nature, start not at the greater mystery 
 of His person. Expect, rather, that in Him the mystery 
 would be increased, just in i^roportion to the superior dignity 
 of His relations, and the greatness of His office. 
 
 That His humanity ivas left open to trial and assault, is 
 a truth, not of reason, nor even of revelation merely ; it is a 
 matter of fact — a case of evidence. To question it, is to 
 question whether He was left cajoable of suffering or not — 
 He, "the man of sorrows, and familiar with grief From 
 the hour of His entrance on His public work. He was in con- 
 stant collision with the great enemy. Temptation, so far 
 
140 THE SECOND AD AIM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 from retiring from His path, crowded into it all its snares 
 and toils. His coming aj^pears to have awakened all the 
 original antipathy of evil against good. His whole life Avas 
 a continued conflict, hourly increasing in ardour and danger, 
 till it reached the crisis of Calvary. But " though he was 
 temjDted in all points like as we are, and inconceivably more, 
 yet without sin '' — " the prince of this world, the powers of 
 darkness came, and had nothing in him.'' One moment 
 there was, indeed, and only one, when His humanity shud- 
 dered, and seemed about to pause. One moment in which 
 a deejD, dark shadow passed over His soul, and seemed about 
 to settle — but only seemed. It was a self-struggle ; a struggle 
 which shewed the agony of the trial, and enhanced the value 
 of His self-sacrifice. 
 
 4. But another condition remains : if the sinful posterity 
 of the first man have been spared on account of the second. 
 He must render compensation to the violated law in His own 
 person, and as their substitute. And this He did, intelli- 
 gently, voluntarily, and with a devotedness the most entu'e. 
 It was the purpose which had always filled His heart. Never, 
 for a moment, did He withdraw His eye from the place of 
 sacrifice ; never diverged a single step from the path which 
 led to it. So fully was He possessed with the vastness of 
 His sacrificial design, that He valued moments, faculties, life 
 itself, only as the means of working it out. He set himself 
 apart to it. " I am come,'' said he, as He cast an eye over 
 the vast region of spiritual death — " I am come that they 
 might have life." He found Himself surrounded by a world of 
 imprisoned beings, chamed and laden powers, wrestling with 
 a bondage which they themselves had imposed, yearning 
 after a freedom they could not achieve. " The Son of man," 
 said He, " hath come to give his life a ransom for many." 
 Looking back to the dreary hour when sin entered into the 
 world, He saw that " death had reigned from Adam " — had 
 led down generation after generation to the dust. " But the 
 hour is comhig," said He, with holy impatience ; " the hour 
 
THE SECOND ADA1\I THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 141 
 
 is coming, when all that are in their graves shall come forth/' 
 — " they shall hear the voice of the Son of man, and shall 
 come forth/' And as He thought of the outraged law He 
 was to vindicate ; and as the groans of humanity reached His 
 ear, and the glory which would accrue to God rose on His 
 view, He advanced yet nearer to the altar of sacrifice. And 
 as the hour of atonement approached, the Great Victim con- 
 secrates himself anew, and exclaims, "I have a baptism to 
 be baptized with — a baj^tism of blood — and how am I strait- 
 ened till it be accomplished?" And as He at length stands 
 in the awful shadow of the cross, and surveys afresh the 
 magnitude of His undertaking, '' Now,'' saith He, " is my 
 soul troubled ; and what shall I say ? Father, save me from 
 this hour? But for this cause came I unto this hour." But 
 see, the worst is not yet. The dregged and bitter cup is 
 put into His hand. "My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me ! " That is the very sting of the penalty He 
 has come to exhaust. Can He endure it ? But while we 
 ask, He is heard uttering, " It is finished," and surrenders 
 His Hfe. 
 
 Brethren, in that event an eternal purpose was fulfilled, 
 and the whole of God's preceptive law was vindicated, satis- 
 fied, enthroned in the eyes of the universe. Considering the 
 dignity of the Being who suffered, had He only signified 
 His wilKngness to atone — yes, had He never actually come 
 into our world — had He but verbally signified His readiness 
 to come, should His coming be necessary — even that would 
 have reflected greater honour on the law, v/hich He was 
 thus ready to vindicate, than it could ever receive by all 
 human, all angelic obedience. But that He should literally 
 have done this — that He, the second person in the Unity of 
 the Godhead, should in any sense have become the second 
 man, the new head of the human race — that He, the Creator 
 of holy man, should in any sense become the substitute of 
 sinful man — that He, the Invisible, should have assumed a 
 material form, taking up the very dust we trod on into His 
 
142 THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 mysterious person — that He, the Lawgiver, should be seen 
 by the universe in a station of obedience, subjecting Himself 
 to His o^vn laws, and doing this for the express purpose of 
 dying — dying as an expiation for human guilt — dying that 
 justice might have a compensation to accept, and that mercy 
 might have forgiveness to bestow — these are wonders resolv- 
 able only into the depths of His infinite compassion for us ; 
 this is a transaction which has left no part of the universe in 
 the same condition as it was before ; and yet this, all this, is 
 involved in the history of the second man. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And this brings us, fourthly, to the consideration of the 
 right which the Saviour thus acquired. The voluntary 
 humiliation of the Son of God, I have said, left no part of 
 the universe in the same condition in which it was before. 
 It changed the moral relations of the v/nole. All the myriads 
 who had lived and died in self-willed disobedience, it con- 
 victed them of the deepest guilt, and ratified their condem- 
 nation. All Avho had obeyed the will of God, and had 
 suffered cruel mocking and scourging for obeying it, were 
 now justified in what they had done ; for here God himself 
 had been manifest in the flesh expressly to do the same. 
 The law itself which expresses that will — the relation of that 
 was altered ; for it was taken out of the dust in which it had 
 been trampled, and was placed on a throne. It received 
 more than satisfaction — more than atonement; in the 
 obedience of Christ it is magnified, entlironed for eternity. 
 In the history and person of Christ, it is crowned for ever. 
 On this account, the relation of the Father himself, as the 
 Administrator of the Law, is changed ; He can now remit 
 its penalty without relaxing its obligations ; He can leave its 
 honour in the hands of Christ. He can say to the penitent 
 sinner, " You are free — for Christ's sake, you are free ; go 
 and sin no more.'' And thus " He can be just while justi- 
 fying the ungodly." The relation of Christ himself is 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 143 
 
 changed; "Wherefore God also hath highly exalted Him, 
 and hath given to Him a name which is above every name ; 
 constituted Him the head of a new economy ; inv(?sted Him 
 with the recovered lordship of the world , given Him a right 
 to the homage of every knee, and the obedience of every 
 heai^t ; and given to Him the agency of the Holy Spirit to 
 enforce that right, and to bring back the world to God/' 
 
 Brethren, we have here found the right key to the creation 
 of the universe. It is mediatorial — from first to last it is 
 mediatorial. " All things were created ly Him, and for 
 Him/' The mediatorial office of Christ is not to be regarded 
 as an afterthought— a supplementary appointment, owing to 
 the unexpected failure of a previous design. It was the 
 primary step towards the creation of the universe. Nor was 
 the fall of the first man in any sense necessitated by this 
 primary arrangement. On the contrary, it implies that, the 
 evil having been infallibly foreseen, the entire plan of the 
 Divine procedure was laid with a view to an adequate remedy. 
 The sm of the first Adam presupposed the saving power of 
 the second. The loss of the headship of the human race by 
 the first man presupposed its recovery by the second. And 
 never does any part of creation answer its highest end 
 until it falls into its place around the throne of Christ. 
 Numerous other ends it may answer ; many of them im- 
 portant ; all of them, it may be, allowable ; but failing of 
 homage to Him, it fails of the chief end for which it was 
 brought into existence. Not till the earth echoed the first 
 promise— not till it became the theatre for unfolding the 
 scheme of mercy which that promise enclosed — did it attain 
 the grand office of its creation. Not till the objects and 
 elements of nature became the recognised images and 
 emblems of that great scheme, did the true reason of their 
 existence come to light. The offices of prophet, priest, and 
 king, found not their true meaning till they became the 
 known emblems of the mediatorial offices of Christ. Till 
 Christ assumed our nature, the great reason for the existence 
 
iA4i THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEK 
 
 of humanity itself remained undeveloped. Till lie took up 
 our nature and lived as man, no man liad lived — that is to 
 say, the Divine idea of what man should be had never been 
 realized — and, till He died, the temple of the universe had 
 been destitute, except in the Divine intention, of altar, sacri- 
 fice, and priest. " Wherefore God also hath highly exalted 
 Him ;" views everything in relation to Him ; and hath in- 
 vested Him with all power in heaven and in earth. All 
 worship is to be offered in His name, and is accepted for His 
 sake. All preaching is to take Him for its theme. Every- 
 thing praiseworthy in conduct is an imitation of Him. All 
 excellence of character is resemblance to Him. All progress 
 in excellence is only an approach to the measure of the 
 stature of His fulness. " All things are yours,'"' saith the 
 apostle ; but it is only on the condition that " you are His.'" 
 All things rise in importance, in proportion as they are made 
 available for Him. His followers live only as He lives in 
 them ; and live to purpose only as they are the means of 
 diffusing His influence and enlarging His kingdom. Time 
 itself is to be measured by the fulfilment of His plans ; for 
 He must reign till He hath put all enemies under His feet — 
 till the last enemy, death, is abolished — and then cometh the 
 end. 
 
 Brethren, the future is stored with events. But could we 
 see them all ranged in the order of their importance, one 
 event there is which would be seen towering above, and 
 eclipsing every other — the second coming of the Lord from 
 heaven. We have seen that, prior to the creation of the first 
 man, everything was made with a reference to His appear- 
 ance. And we have seen, that from the time of his fall, 
 everything pointed to the advent of the second man. All 
 things said, in effect, " We are waiting for ^im.'' But now, 
 from the time "the heavens received Him out of our sight," 
 the face of everything significant is turned in the direction 
 of His second coming. Every message of mercy delivered 
 in His name takes it for granted that He is coming to ascer- 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FllOM HEAVEN. 14;5 
 
 tain its results. Every instance wliicli commemorates His 
 death, is to shew it forth till He come — is an act of faith 
 which sj^ans the interval from His first to His second comino*. 
 Every pang of remorse, every act of self-judgment, is a fore- 
 stalment of the general judgment. The continued existence 
 of laws and governments supj^oses the existence of His 
 government, and the appointment of a day in which He will 
 take cognizance of the whole. All His people are described 
 as looking for Him ; this is one of their characteristics — 
 " looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing 
 of the great God our Saviour.'' " They are waiting for the 
 adoption, to wit, the redemption of the body.'' He himself 
 has kindled the hope. Eor when here on earth He declared, 
 " This is the Father's will who hath sent me, that of all which 
 he hath given me I should lose nothing, but should raise it 
 up again at the last day." And again He repeated, as if 
 foretasting the Godlike pleasure of the act, " I luill raise him 
 up at the last da.y." Every new-made grave, therefore, takes 
 from Him an additional pledge that He will come again. 
 Every sigh which the Christian utters on account of sin — 
 every tear which sorrow occasions him — every unsatisfied 
 aspiration after excellence — every unfinished plan of useful- 
 ness — all that sense of incompleteness which pervades His 
 people, supposes the coming of the great Consummator. 
 "Eor we know that the whole creation groaneth and tra- 
 vaileth in pain together until now" — waiting for the last 
 redemption act — the resurrection of the body. And He him- 
 self is waiting to perform it. " For this man," saith the 
 apostle, "after He had offered one sacrifice for sins, for 
 ever sat clown on the right hand of God ; from henceforth 
 expecting" — looking out with the calmness of certainty, but 
 with the earnestness of expectation — " till His enemies be 
 made His footstool," and till His friends shall share His 
 exaltation. 
 
 Eventful was the hour which saw man formed from the 
 dust — the hour in which the earth first became the scene 
 
146 THE SECOND ADAM THE LOKD FEOM HEAYEN. 
 
 of moral government. Still more momentous was tlie hour 
 when, after ages of accumulating guilt and of Divine prepara- 
 tion, the earth became an altar for the sacrifice of the great 
 Victim — the hour to whose coming all laws had been looking 
 for their vindication — all the interests of humanity for their 
 recovery — and, when lifting up His eyes to heaven He could 
 say, "Father, the hour is come/' But more stupendous still 
 is the hour which yet impends— ^the hour in which " He shall 
 come again the second time/' " Far off His coming" shines. 
 But distant as that scene may be to our apprehension, all the 
 affairs of time look for it — all the events of Providence pre- 
 pare for it. The wide interval will dwindle to centuries, and 
 those centuries to tens, and those years to months, and those 
 months to days, and those days to hours, till again He will 
 say, but in other tones, " Father, the hour is come \" And, 
 " He shall come to be glorified in His saints, and to be ad- 
 mired in all them that believe.'" And they shall come forth 
 from their graves to meet Him. And, " He shall change 
 their bodies, fashionino- them like unto His own oiorious 
 body" — His perfect humanity the glorious prototyj)e of theirs 
 — " according to the working whereby He is able to subdue 
 all things unto Himself" 
 
 1. Here, then, we see, first, why Christ is the theme of 
 the Gospel ministry. We have seen that the former dispen- 
 sation existed expressly to prepare the way for Him. God 
 himself was the preacher then ; for every part of the economy 
 was arranged by His dictation ; and yet the voice of the 
 whole was made to tell of the character and coming of Christ. 
 And has the subject lost in interest or importance now 
 that He has come? Every object then was to be sprinkled 
 with blood, even the book of the covenant, the Bible ; and 
 shall the hloocl of the covenant itself, the true sacrificial blood, 
 now that it is shed, be less extensively applied ? Shall not 
 every discourse derived from the Bible be consecrated by it ? 
 God himself " hath set him forth as the propitiation for sin 
 through faith in his blood" — hath set Him forth, placed Him 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 1 47 
 
 in the front of His throne, so that no intercourse can take 
 place between God and man but through Him. And is it 
 for the Christian j^reacher to depose Him, in effect, from His 
 exalted station, or to cast a veil over His sacrifice ? Eather 
 let us place Him in the front of our ministrations ; let us see 
 our hearers only through Him ; let them see us only as His 
 representatives. The great government of God now is media- 
 torial in the highest sense — has no other basis than the media- 
 tion of Christ ; that surely is an adequate reason why our 
 preaching should be mediatorial also. 
 
 But besides bemg in harmony with the mind of God, it is 
 the only preaching adapted to the wants of man. It takes 
 in all his history, and every part of his nature. My honoured 
 brother, could all the world be collected here, I need not 
 remind you, that you, as a minister of Christ, could interpret 
 the fears and the hopes of the whole. Here you continue to 
 reproduce all that is eventful in the past, to paint all that is 
 momentous in the future, and to bring both to bear on the 
 interests of the present. Your hearers will often need, often 
 wish, to have their own nature exjDlained ; for they come 
 vaguely conscious of a connexion with the past, of a dignity 
 departed, of a happiness blighted, of a lingering admiration 
 of spiritual excellence and worth, and yet of moral conflicts 
 ending in defeat, and of a depravity requiring superhuman 
 resistance. And leading them back into the past, you can 
 point them to the first sin of the first man, and remind them 
 that they are the fallen children of a fallen parent ; and tearing 
 away the veil from their breast, you can shew them that their 
 conscience is a dethroned j^ower, their heart deceitful and 
 depraved, their nature polluted in its springs and principles — 
 and every fibre of thcK system vibrates to the truth of the 
 appeal They come as sufferers, each with his secret sorrow, 
 all yearning for sympathy ; and, oh, how tender and sacred 
 the office ! that you should be able to lead forth into their 
 midst the great Sufferer — Him " wearing the crown of thorns 
 and the purple robe" — and to say to them, " Behold the man. 
 
14S THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 the ]\Ian of sorrows " — and to assure tliem that, " in that He 
 hath suffered, being temjjted, He is able to succour them that 
 are temj)ted/' Tliey come as sinners, troubled with a sense 
 of guilt, and with the api^rehension of approaching doom ; and 
 how divine is your office in having to lead them to the 
 uplifted cross, and to say, " Behold the Lamb of God taking 
 av/ay the sin of the world" — " Surely He was wounded for 
 your transgressions, bruised for your iniquities, the chastise- 
 ment of your peace was upon Him, that mth Hjs stripes you 
 might be healed." As tliose luho have been created anew in 
 Christ Jesus, they will come yearning after spiritual excel- 
 lence, and a i30wer to attain it, and an eternity in which to 
 enjoy it; and, as a minister of Christ, you are prepared to 
 meet their necessities. Drawing away their attention from 
 the false standards set up by their fellow-men, you can point 
 them to the second man, " the express image" of Divine per- 
 fection. To this, says the apostle, they were predestinated, 
 "to be conformed to the image of Hjs Son ;" and this is the 
 very end of your ministry, " that as they have borne the 
 image of the earthy, they should also bear the image of the 
 heavenly." And for the poiuer of attaining this resemblance, 
 you have to announce that the Spirit of God has become the 
 very "Spirit of life in Christ Jesus" — the very Spirit of life, 
 quickening, regenerating, and giving them power to become 
 the sons of God. And as to their longing for ever-advancing 
 excellence and happiness, it is yours to announce that the 
 heaven of the Bible is eternally set ajmrt for both ; that there 
 excellence mil know no pause in its progress from throne 
 to throne, hapj^iness no interruption in its ever-wJdening, 
 deepening stream. Christ "hath brought life and immor- 
 tality to light," and here that light must flash ; hath brought 
 them from an unknoAvn distance, and placed them before us ; 
 brou«"ht heaven with all its olories into our horizon, and here 
 those glories are to be seen, to be felt, to enclose the hearers, 
 so that they shall feel themselves moving under the powers 
 of the world to come. It is only in this way that they can 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 149 
 
 be detached from the powers of this world, can Be made to 
 stand apart as the faithful followers of " the second man, the 
 Lord from heaven/' It is only by thus warning every man, 
 and teaching every man in all wisdom, that any of them can 
 be presented perfect in Christ Jesus/' But, in this way, they 
 can. Oh, with what a mighty power are we intrusted — the 
 power of preaching Christ ! The world has nothing to com- 
 pare with it. God himself cannot commit to us a greater. 
 True, it may degenerate into an affair of mere words, of tame 
 and heartless repetition ; the phrase " Christ crucified" may 
 come to be substituted for the preaching of " Christ cruci- 
 fied.'' True, the press may so nearly approach what the 
 pulpit ought to be, as to become more than a rival power. 
 But of this we may be assured, that the pulpit cannot be true 
 to its Divine intention without jDroving to be the mightiest 
 of all instrumentalities. And of this we may be assured, fur- 
 ther, that the secret of its might lies in the Cross ; here the 
 loftiest poetry, the profoundest philosophy, the mightiest 
 power reside. Man can never supersede it — society never out- 
 grow it. Like some of the yet untried substances of nature, 
 an unknown power slumbers within it. And here, in humble 
 dependence on the Holy Spuit, may the great experiment 
 continue to be made, how much of that power may be called 
 forth for the salvation of men. 
 
 2. Secondly, the subject reminds us of the great principle 
 which separates mankind into two classes, and which asso- 
 ciates all who belong to one of these in a distinct community, 
 a church — the principle of spiritual relationship to the Second 
 Man. Other principles of distinction, indeed^, obtain amonn- 
 men. Physiologists have even propounded the theory of 
 diflTerent species of mankind. In order to a<?count tor the 
 varieties of colour, and language, and physical structure, they 
 have inquired whether or not the difi'erent branches of man- 
 kind have not descended from different original stocks. The 
 amount of evidence, indeed, is decidedly in favour of one com- 
 mon origin of the species. But even though the reverse could 
 
150 THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 be demonstrated, one distinction there is which would sepa- 
 rate all these varieties into tAVo parts, the distinction arising 
 from the union of some of them to the second man, from 
 heaven. Class them according to their physical relations, 
 and you will arrange them according to country, and colour, 
 and bodily conformation. Class them according to their pro- 
 gress in civilization, and you will have to break up the other 
 arrangement, and to bring together parties which you had 
 before separated. Class them according to their tastes, and 
 wishes, and affections, and you form a new arrangement, and 
 a stronger compact still. But now select those who, while 
 admitting their common descent from the first Adam, liave 
 passed over into a new relationship to the second, who 
 recognize Him as their new and only Head of mercy and hap- 
 piness, and whose aim it is to identify themselves with Him 
 in spirit, character, and pursuit, — and you have formed a com- 
 munity differing hi essence from every other. All other com- 
 munities agree more than they differ, for they all have their 
 root in the first man. This differs from them all more than 
 it agrees, for it has its root in the second. This is His new 
 society. This is the Church — ''His body, tlie Church." He 
 himself is made " head over all thuio;s for it.'' The first man 
 saw his seed; and it was jiredicted of the second, "He shall 
 see his seed" — and here He beholds them. They are " born 
 from above.'' They are "joined unto the Lord." Their 
 relationship to Him places them in a new relation to every 
 thing in the universe, breaks up some of their previous rela- 
 tions, gives a new character to the rest, and forms additional 
 ones of the most exalted nature. Their relationship to Him 
 transcends every other — gives them a right to the tree of life 
 — unites them to Him who is the life — opens to them the 
 prospect of thrones in heaven. Their relationship to Him is 
 destined to outlive every other. You lift your thoughts to 
 the scenes of the last day, and you see the Son of man sitting 
 upon the throne of His glory, and before Him are gathered all 
 nations, all the posterity of Adam, and you see Him separate 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LORD FEOai HEAVEN. 151 
 
 them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep 
 from the goats. On his left hand are seen all those Avho 
 chose to retain their connexion with the fellcn head of 
 humanity ; on the right, all who came into vital alliance with 
 the second man, the Lord from heaven. The generalization 
 will be simple; the division definite, one. Every other con- 
 nexion will have melted away before the final fires. The 
 golden chain which binds His people to himself will be the 
 only remaining bond. Now, that scene will simply exhibit 
 what ought to have been His Church on earth, transferred to 
 His right hand in heaven. His Gospel is continued among 
 us, is allowed to be preached here and elsewhere, simply for 
 the formation of that relationship, the enlargement and com- 
 pletion of that Church. The world is already divided to His 
 eye. The two classes of which we have spoken are as distinct 
 to His eye now as they will be in the last day. At this 
 moment they are sitting, in eff'ect, the one on His right hand 
 and the other on His left. This congregation, mingled as it 
 is to our eye, to His eye is accurately divided — separated by 
 a distance which defies all measurement. But, as yet, the 
 division is not final. And He will account His Gospel to 
 succeed here just in proportion as it is the means of deepen- 
 ing "the image of the heavenly" in His people, and of aug- 
 menting their number from the ranks of the ungodly— just in 
 proportion, that is, as it induces men to pass over from the 
 mass of worldhness on His lefc hand, to join the renewed 
 community on His right, and thus to prepare for the grand 
 classification of the last day. 
 
 o. Then, finally, what should be our conduct as the pro- 
 fessed followers and representatives of the second man — the 
 Head of redeemed humanity ? That He does not demand 
 from us impossibilities may be taken for granted ; for He 
 wears our natm-e, " and can be touched with the feeling of 
 om* infirmities." But that His requirements would be com- 
 prehensive, urgent, supreme, and that they would be even 
 startling in their extent to an unreflecting, unformed piety, 
 
152 THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 might have been antecedently expected ; for a state of mind 
 which would thus revolt from them, is a part of the very evil 
 from which we have to be redeemed. And that there would 
 be some periods and states of society in which these low 
 views of His requirements would especially prevail, was to 
 be expected. My impression is, that the present is one of 
 those states ; that a tacit compromise has taken place, in 
 effect, between the two races of which we have been speaking 
 — between the Church and the world — the Church having 
 given up much of its inward distinctive spirit, on condition 
 that the world would conform to its outward demeanour; and, 
 on the other hand, the Church, it is to be feared, has received 
 much of the spirit of the world, and has not been slow in 
 adopting many of its forms and habits. Indeed, so far has 
 this compromise obtained, that, to insist on the essential, 
 scriptural distinction between the two, has become to a great 
 degree distasteful. To leave the Church in the world was to 
 expose it to a danger which called forth the earnest interces- 
 sions of its Divine head ; but the world in the Church is a 
 danger a thousandfold greater, and one which should excite 
 universal concern. 
 
 Brethren, whatever the doctrinal heresies of the day may 
 be, the great ^jractical heresy, peculiar to no one denomma- 
 tion, but belonging in different degrees to all, is that of a 
 defective zeal — a zeal which is content to copy, not from 
 anything in the Bible, but from everything out of it ; not 
 from the Head of the Church, but from the unwortliiest 
 of His followers. And will not this sufficiently account for 
 every other deficiency and evil we have to deplore ? My 
 brethren, if you can be thus content, we shall not be surprised 
 to hear that you are in a languid, lifeless state ; just moving, 
 and nothing more ; not moving others ; not anxious to be 
 quickened yourselves. You will be able to do without earnest 
 prayer to God ; you will be able to do without the Spirit of 
 God himself ; for you will aim at nothing high, nothing 
 spiritual, nothing at which He aims. But take a high stan- 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 153 
 
 darcl of devotedness — copy from the examj^le of Christ hmi- 
 self — and you will wrestle in prayer for the Spirit of God, 
 for you will find yourselves labouring in a field in which God 
 alone can give the increase. 
 
 In no other way can the Church of Christ ever answer its 
 great design. So sj^iritual are its aims, that a worldly 
 Church can never look at them. So vast its objects, that a 
 half-hearted piety will never attemi^t them, and would never 
 attain them if it did. So various its duties, that an unre- 
 flecting piety will never even know them. The Church of 
 Christ ! why, it is His irpresentative to the world ; what 
 Christian grace can it spare ? It is the agent of Christ ; 
 what resources can it dispense with ? It is the blood-bought 
 servant of the Son of God ; what part or property of any of 
 all its members does not belong entirely to Him ? Christ, 
 a self-sacrificing Saviour, is its example — and men sinking 
 into perdition are the objects of its concern ; can it feel too 
 deeply, entreat too earnestly, labour too devotedly, in order 
 to copy that example and to save those souls ? Oh, what 
 devoted followers have some men — some mere human leaders 
 — had, though both their fame and the objects of their pur- 
 suit were w^orse than doubtful — followers whose zeal never 
 faltered, whose lives were a perpetual sacrifice 1 And poetry 
 celebrates their praise, and posterity converts their names 
 into titles of reno\vn. Here is " the second man,'' the Head 
 of redeemed humanity — shall He alone be served by heart- 
 less followers ? So vast and full of grace is His mediatorial 
 design, that He requires all the powers of all His people — 
 has work for them all. And even if He had them, the 
 kindest tones cannot equal the tenderness of His entreaties ; 
 the hottest tears cannot express His anguish over human 
 misery ; the most throbbing heart cannot beat quick enough 
 to satisfy His eager longing for human salvation ; all the 
 influence which the collective Church could bring to His 
 service could not do justice to His free, and full, and gushing 
 
154} THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 
 
 benevolence — could not form channels wide and deep enougli 
 to pour forth the ocean-fulness of His grace. 
 
 Brethren, in building this house for God, you profess to 
 sympathize with Him in His designs of grace. Then, you 
 will come here to work as well as to worship. You have 
 been only providing the means of usefulness ; now you will 
 begin to aim at the end. The first service in this new sanc- 
 tuary draws to a close ; shall it not be signalized by some 
 appropriate expression of your Christian zeal ? You have 
 built the altar. ; what are you prepared to lay on it ? You 
 have become "new creatures in Christ Jesus;"' will you not 
 aim at becoming new Christians ? Parents, wtII you not 
 earnestly pray that here your children may be " born again 
 of the incorruptible seed of the word"? My young friends, 
 and you who have been long debating the question of a ftdl 
 surrender to God, shall not this be the time for bringing the 
 great question to an issue ? A new sanctuary is opened ; 
 how appropriate would be the opening of new hearts, hearts 
 to which He had never been welcomed before ! " Behold,'' 
 saith He, " I stand at the door, and knock I" Vfhat hearts 
 will open? Who, then, is willing to consecrate his service 
 this day unto the Lord ? this day, before these opening ser- 
 vices close ? It would lift this place at once out of an 
 ordinary position, and connect it with Eden and Sinai, with 
 Calvary and Heaven — v/ould secure for it a distinguished 
 place in the map of the Divine dominions. It would connect 
 this day with the last day. And it is on that day the eye of 
 Christ is fixed. And does the sight delight Him ? The 
 messages here delivered — the praj^ers ofi'ered — the liberality 
 of zeal manifested — the summing uj) of the whole in the last 
 great day — and then the consequences through all the ever- 
 lasting future — the whole is before Him ; and, as He looks on 
 it, is He satisfied ? This opening service — we have spoken 
 of its close, but it closes not with the day. Already it is 
 blended with your history for ever ; already it belongs to the 
 
THE SECOND ADAM THE LOED FEOM HEAVEN. 155 
 
 history of an everlasting kingdom, is taken up into tlie affairs 
 of the Son of man, forms part of the imperishable records 
 of His government. Time is precions to Him ; this day, 
 each service is precious to Him. For He sees the end of 
 the whole. And He would not have one close without its 
 telling usefully on that end. What will then appear to have 
 been the effects of this day ? On that distant result His eye 
 is at this moment fixed. Oh, could we mark His looks as 
 He regards it ! — His looks ! Try, in the silence of solitude 
 — try to imagine them. 
 
 Brethren, act on the firm conviction that every prayer you 
 ofier in His name, every gift you present in His service, 
 every efibrt you make for His glory — will heighten His 
 Divine delight, will brighten those eternal consequences of 
 which we have spoken, will enhance your own blessedness 
 for ever. Act on the conviction now ; and may God grant 
 you His effectual blessing. Amen. 
 
156 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 SEKMON VII. 
 
 THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OP GOD. 
 
 Heb. X. 5-7 — " Wherefore, ivlien he cometli into tJie iDorld^ he saith^ Sacri- 
 fice and offering thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared 
 me : In burnt-offerings and sacrifices for sin thou liast had no pleasure. 
 Then said I, Zo, / come (in the volume of the book it is written of me) 
 to do thj icill^ O God."" 
 
 The text is a quotation from the 40th Psahn ; and, as it is here 
 introduced and employed, it may be regarded as answering 
 several questions, which, when it was first uttered, and 
 during tlie remainder of the Jewish economy, it was likely 
 to suggest. For example, was it calculated to awaken the 
 inquiry, " Of whom speaketh the prophet this — of himself or 
 of some other man ? " The apostle here determines that it 
 was spoken prophetically of Christ; that it was uttered pro- 
 spectively by Christ. Was it asked, at what point of time 
 the Messiah was to be supposed to utter it ? " When he 
 Cometh into the world," replies the apostle ; and when, by 
 coming, the dispensation of shadows was made to give place 
 to the " very things " foreshadowed. And as the expres- 
 sion, " mine ear hast thou opened,'' denoted the readiness of 
 Messiah to hear and to obey, was it asked, " To what extent 
 will He obey ? " The apostle replies, to the offering up of 
 His body as a sacrifice for sin. The immediate object of the 
 apostle in introducing this Scripture was, to add another to 
 the many particulars which he had already noticed, in wliich 
 the Christian dispensation rises superior to the Mosaic. "It 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 157 
 
 is superior in tliis respect, also/' lie remarks, "that the one 
 offering of the body of Christ upon the cross is a suffi- 
 cient expiation for sin, and for ever supersedes all other 
 sacrifices/'' 
 
 But while this was His immediate object, other and higher 
 truths than that of the inferiority or the abolition of the 
 Jewish economy are involved in it ; and to these, as more 
 suited to our present object, we will now direct our attention. 
 It presents us, for instance, with a view of Christ comino- 
 into a world of self-willed, disobedient creatures — comino- 
 not to punish them, but to save ; coming to save them by 
 suffering ; coming to shew them that the only condition on 
 which He can be a Saviour is, by being an obedient sufferer ; 
 coming to shew them that obedience to the will of God is 
 the only true dignity, and to furnish them with the strongest 
 inducements to copy his example. 
 
 Viewed in this light, then, the text reminds us that all 
 intelligent creatures can find their happiness and perfection 
 only in obedience to the Divine will ; that man has violated 
 that will, and lost his spiritual excellence and haj^piness ; 
 that his restoration, however, and the re-enthronement of the 
 Divine will, have been made possible, by the vicarious obe- 
 dience of the Son of God; that as many as recover their 
 excellence and happiness again, by recovering their harmony 
 with the Divine will, are bound to do all they can for the 
 restoration of all the rest ; and that the weightiest motives 
 urge them to the performance of this duty. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the first j^lace, the text reminds us that intelligent 
 creatures can find their happiness and perfection only in the 
 harmony of their wills with the will of God. Need I re- 
 mind you that, before the first creative fiat went forth, it was 
 entirely dependent on the Divine will whether there should 
 be a created universe at all ? and then, that it was equally 
 dependent on the Divine will what that universe should be ? 
 
158 THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 The only thing certain was, tliat if a creation Y/as called 
 fortli, it wonld be an expression of His will, and in harmony 
 with His j)erfection. Need I remind you that He willed, 
 and myriads of bright and sjDiritual forms aj)peared around 
 His throne, each having a will of his own, but all in harmony 
 with His will ? Penetrated with the conviction, that to obey 
 Him was their hiHiest freedom, to be like Him their, truest 
 glory, they were " swift to do his will, hearkening to the 
 voice of his word/' Each voluntarily flew at His bidding, 
 like a thought of God in motion ; and at His bidding all 
 stood around His throne ; and like a sea of glass, reflected 
 the glory which was there unveiled, while they raised the 
 song, "Thou hast created all things, God, and for thy 
 pleasure they are and were created/' Here, then, was solved 
 the first great problem of moral government, that more wills 
 than one can co-exist, and yet be free ; that finite wills can 
 be subordinated to the Supreme will, and yet be free ; free, 
 not in spite of that subordination, but in consequence of it ; 
 free, only so long as that willing subordination continues ; 
 so free, as to be accountable for every volition ; so free, 
 as to constitute a glorious representation of the Divine 
 freedom. 
 
 But was this the only way in v/hich he could be obeyed ? 
 Eepair to another part of the universe, and receive the 
 Divine reply. Here, another substance has been called into 
 existence — matter. This material substance the creative 
 hand has moulded into an infinite variety of forms, and 
 endowed with an infinite variety of pro23erties ; but search 
 among them all, and you will find nothing deserving the 
 name of a will. Where, when the Divine Benignity smiles 
 — ^where, amidst all the forms of mere animal life, is the 
 countenance to reflect and return the smile ? Where, when 
 He speaks, is the ear to hear, and the will to obey ? True, 
 He is obeyed ; but it is the unresisting obedience of a 
 machine, which cannot go wrong, cannot disobey. He is 
 obeyed ; but how different the service from the obedience of 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 159 
 
 heaven ! There, His will is done voluntarily, by holy intel- 
 ligences, who anticipate His bidding, and even exceed His 
 commands ; while, here, it is done blindly, involuntarily, 
 inevitably. Here, as yet, no eye looks towards His throne — 
 no heart beats for His honour ! 
 
 And are these the only two ways in which God can be 
 honoured — by the voluntary service of spirits in heaven, and 
 by the involuntary service of matter, animate and inanimate, 
 on earth ? And shall this earth never be the scene of any 
 other, any better service ? What if an order of beings were 
 to be created on purpose — beings, uniting in their consti- 
 tution the sjmitual natures peculiar to heaven, and the 
 organs and senses of the material creatures of earth ! Vv^iat 
 if a voluntary being should be made, capable of taking the 
 whole involuntary world which he found in existence when 
 he came, and of offering it up as a free-will offering to God ! 
 His will doing God's will ; and everything else doing his 
 will ! 
 
 Listen, and, in imagination, you may hear the sons of God, 
 as they press towards Eden, shouting for joy. For, lo, the 
 problem is solved — the creature is made — God may hence- 
 forth be served on earth as He is in heaven. Kepair to the 
 scene, and examine the wonderful constitution of the new- 
 made being. He has a sense for the perception of every 
 material object, and an emotion answering to every move- 
 ment of the world luitliout him. But, mark, in addition to 
 all this, he has a will with which to direct his perceptions 
 and control his emotions — a will like the angels — a will, the 
 very counterpart and image of the Divine will — so that if 
 God say, " I will that you serve me," man is made to respond, 
 •'And I will to be thy servant.'' And all material objects 
 and mechanical laws — the whole world — is given into his 
 hands, that he may have wherewith to serve God. Have 
 dominion over all — saith God. Hitherto, they had subserved 
 the Divine purpose without the intervention of any will; but 
 now a creature w^ith a will is to come between them and God, 
 
160 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 and is to take them and bear tliem into tlie Divine presence 
 as a free-will oiFering. 
 
 Talk not of treasures stored up in the temples of antiquity 
 — of the spices for incense, and the golden vessels for obla- 
 tion. Wonder not at these. Here was a being for whom 
 the earth was a temple, and that earth stored from the centre 
 to the surface with the sacred treasures for the altar. Nay, 
 that earth entire, as it was seen speeding through space — 
 what was it but an altar at which man was to be perpetually 
 ministering? He was to be the priest of creation. Every- 
 thing that hath breath was to praise the Lord through his 
 lips. The whisper of the winds, and the voice of the waves, 
 were to find an interpreter in him, and to symj)honize with 
 his song. The fragrance of nature, and its richest gems, were 
 to furnish him with incense and offerings. And thus this 
 creature with a will was not only to serve God himself, but 
 all the material objects and mechanical laws of earth were to 
 be pressed by him and promoted into the service of God like- 
 wise. Yes, this unconscious globe itself, as if a soul had been 
 given to it — as if the very planet had been endowed with a 
 free will, and had then voluntarily moved into the presence 
 of its Maker, and there exhaled itself away in incense to His 
 praise — was to be sacred to his service. For the whole of it 
 was given to man, and he, whatever use he made of it, whether 
 he ate of its fruits, or drank of its juices, whatever he did, was 
 to do all to the glory of God. 
 
 Nor was this the whole of the Vv^ondrous arrangement. 
 Examine the constitution of the new-made being more closely 
 still, and you will find that, in his own person, he unites the 
 constitution of two worlds — of heaven and of earth. He 
 has the spontaneous voluntary power of serving God, peculiar 
 to heaven — for he is a spmt; and he has the material and 
 mechanical nature peculiar to earth, for he is in a body. 
 Heaven and earth meet together in him — he is a spirit in- 
 carnate. Did we say just now that the unconscious globe 
 itself, as if a soul or a will had been given to it, was now to 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OP GOD. 161 
 
 be sacred to the service of God ? In tlie constitution of man 
 the idea has been substantially realized. The human body 
 is that world in a compressed form. You cannot name a 
 l^art ]ior a law belonging to the one, the counterpart of which 
 you may not find in the other. And do you not see why it 
 is that such a body has been placed under the control of his 
 will — why it is that a body made up of mechanical, chemical 
 organic, and animal laws should all be given to the dominie n 
 of his will? It is that his holy and obedient will might take 
 it into the psesence of God, and subordinate the whole to His 
 glory. This is the scriptural explanation. He is to present 
 his body a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which 
 is his reasonable service. And observe, in doing this — in 
 presenting to God a body in which all the laws of the mate- 
 rial world are summed up — he is in effect presenting that 
 world itself v/hich has been given him to use. 
 
 Now, then, we have seen the v/ill of God done in a three- 
 fold maimer. In heaven, by the angels, voluntarily; on earth, 
 by the inanimate and irrational creation, unconsciously and 
 involuntarily; and now, by man, in whom the voluntary and 
 involuntary meet — the involuntary body being made sub- 
 servient to the ruling will, and that will subordinated to 
 and harmonizing with the Divine will. Wondrous arrange- 
 ment this, and worthy of a God ! by which perfect freedom 
 and perfect obedience are harmonized and made one; by 
 which every act of my holy will vibrates to the throne of 
 the universe, and falls in with the will of Him who sits on it ; 
 by which the act in which man puts forth his highest energy 
 and his noblest assertion of liberty is, at the same time, the 
 act most perfectly in harmony with the Divine wiU, and with 
 all the laws of created nature. Grave and solemn privilege ! 
 which gives my character, my wellbeing into my own keep- 
 ing; which makes me a law to myself; which leaves it possible 
 for me to oppose the will of Him that made me — that loves 
 me; which, while it places me in harmony with aU His laws, 
 yet so places me there, as to leave it possible for me to break 
 
i 62 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 a^Yay from them all — to attempt to erect myself into a sepa- 
 rate interest, a hostile government ; where almost every act of 
 my will — all my most cherished and determined acts — still 
 vibrating to the throne of God, shall reach there only to 
 aronse the sleejDing thunder of His displeasure, and the hoarse 
 and aoo-ravated echoes of all violated nature. 
 
 Tremendous possibility ! For, what if the new-made man 
 should abuse his freedom? What if the possibility should 
 become a fearful reality? Who can foresee the consequences? 
 As to his body; what if its hand should pluak forbidden 
 fruit — its tonoue utter deceit — all its members become 
 instruments of unrighteousness unto sin? As to the material 
 universe around ; what if he should take himself out of har- 
 mony with its laws — extracting poison from its j^lants, and 
 maddening juices from its fruits, and forging its metals into 
 weapons for the slaughter of his fellows ? What if he should 
 league with other self-willed beings like himself — league with 
 them solely to augment his power for crushing others, and 
 for openly disowning his allegiance to heaven ? Nay, what if 
 in the jDrogress of man's history, he should come to think of 
 setting up a god of his own? What if, turning his back on 
 the throne of his Maker and his Sovereign, he should go and 
 fashion a block of wood or of marble, and say, " Be thou 
 my god," and fall down and adore it? Or worse still — there 
 is a rebel angel at large in the universe — a sworn enemy to 
 the righteous government of God; what if a man should 
 yield himself uj) to his control — should be led captive by 
 Satan at his will? And what if he should complete his 
 degradation and his guilt by calling the worshi]) of his own 
 vices, religion ; the thraldom of Satan, liberty ? What if here, 
 where the will of God should be done as it is in heaven, the 
 will of Satan should be done instead, as it is in hell? 
 
 II. 
 
 Brethren, I need not say, secondly, that this is history — 
 the history of man. The hour of trial came ; and lie fell. A 
 
THE SON mCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 163 
 
 law was given him ; and, oh, better had a star fallen from 
 its sphere, and been falling still! he broke away from its 
 sacred restraint — deranged the harmony of his own nature — 
 distm'bed the tranquillity of the universe — incm-red the 
 penalty of transgression. Mercy spared him, but he relented 
 not; justice threatened him, but he quailed not. His race 
 multiplied; but, with rare exceptions, every addition to his 
 numbers was an additional element of hostility to God. 
 Generation followed generation, only to take up the quarrel 
 and widen the breach. The Lord looked down from heaven 
 to see if there were any that did understand, that did seek 
 after God. Alas ! they had all revolted : there was none that 
 did good; no, not one. 
 
 And what was the quarrel between God and man but a 
 contest of wills? Analyze it, and you will find that the gist of 
 the whole was this : Whose will should be done on earth — 
 The will of the HoHest and the Best, or the will of the 
 guiltiest and the most depraved? And for maintaining this 
 monstrous struggle, men could not plead that they had never 
 known the will of God ; for when they knew God, they glo- 
 rified Him not as God. They could not plead that since then 
 no opportunity had been afforded them of recovering the 
 knowledge of His will ; a succession of messengers had been 
 sent to inform them — miracles had been wrought before their 
 eyes — Smai had been kindled, and the will of God republished. 
 They could not urge that His laws were repulsive ; their very 
 essence was love — love to God and love to man. Nor could 
 they plead that they had found an easier and a better law: 
 for, having cast off the highest authority, was it wonderful 
 that they should be found embroiled in a contest for supe- 
 riority among themselves? Such was their actual condition. 
 The great quarrel which at times threatened the race with a 
 war of extermination was. Whose human will should prevail? 
 The great and only point on v/hich they were all agreed was, 
 that they would not obey the will of God. 
 
 What a spectacle of anarchy and revolt must earth have 
 
164 THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 now presented to the sons of Liglit ! Did tliey think of the 
 morning when they sang together over the new-made being 
 endowed with the lofcy jDOwer of vohmtarily doing the will 
 of God? Alas! he was still voluntarily doing the will of a 
 god; but what a god had he chosen? Did tliey mark the 
 Ijurposes to which he applied that body so fearfully and vron- 
 derfuUy made? The whole mechanism was perverted — its 
 eyes were full of adultery — its tongue using deceit — its feet 
 swift to shed blood — all its members instruments of un- 
 righteousness unto sin. Did they look after those material 
 objects and laws of nature which had preceded his coming, 
 and which had done the will of God involuntarily? He had 
 perverted even these. There was not an element which he 
 had not ingeniously pressed into the service of sin — hardly 
 an object which he did not worship. Its choicest marbles 
 were sculptured into idol forms; its choicest minerals built 
 into idol temples; its precious metals were lavished on idol 
 shrines; and its richest perfumes were burning as incense to 
 idol gods. Did they cast an eye on Jud^a? Its law, though 
 derived from heaven, had been made of none effect by men's 
 traditions — that is, their will had repealed the published will 
 of God. Its temj^le had become a den of thieves. Its sacri- 
 ficial types had for them ceased to typify. Its whole ritual 
 had corrupted and corrupted, till it bred nothing but Phari- 
 sees and Sadducees, and monsters prepared to nail incarnate 
 excellence to a cross. 
 
 And did they not then mournfully mark the cause of the 
 whole; the revolt of the will — the demoniacal possession of 
 the will ? This was at once the secret of man's fearful change; 
 and constituted, in created eyes, its utter hopelessness. Had 
 his will remained loyal to God — had he been coerced into 
 evil against his will by a power without him — Omnipotence 
 could have crushed the coercing power, and have set man at 
 liberty. But he had consented to sin, his will was the leader 
 of the revolt. What can the government of God accept as 
 an atonement for such guilt— and from what quarter of the 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 1 65 
 
 universe can lielp be expected to come? Had he fallen into 
 evil tlirough some misapprehension of the Divine will, he 
 wonld only have required to be set right in his judgment in 
 order to be restored to happiness. But no ; it was his will 
 that had yielded — had drawn all the powers of his nature 
 after it, and had armed them all in the cause of sin. Where 
 then, even if the means of atonement to God can be found, 
 where is the agency for reclaiming the human will — ^for 
 restoring man's holiness — without impairing his freedom? 
 Nature knew not — the angels of Light knew not. Had the 
 evil consisted of a mere material derangement — had all 
 material nature fallen into utter confusion — they themselves 
 might have extricated, adjusted, and restored the whole to 
 order; but to render a compensation for sin, and to bring 
 back into harmony with Infinite Holiness a world of revolted 
 wills, what could they do but sympathize with the claims of 
 that Holiness, and deplore the lost condition of that world? 
 
 III. 
 
 But even then, when to all human, all created eyes, the 
 universe was empty, utterly void of aid, help was on the way. 
 Even then, when revolted infatuated man was saying, " We 
 will not have God to reign over us,'' and was vowing alle- 
 giance to Satan, that God was saying, was swearing, " As I 
 Hve, I will not the death of the sinner;'' an oath whose 
 echoes the universe shall continue to take up and reverberate 
 for ever. Even then His mind was full of a purpose conceived 
 from eternity — a purpose providing the amazmg means of 
 human salvation. And even then a voice was heard replying 
 to that purpose, "I come to do it— lot I come to do i\\jiuill, 
 my God. Thy will is my will— I dehght to do it— it is 
 within my heart." And that voice came from no uncertain 
 quarter— from no angel ranks— it came, if I may say so, from 
 the centre of the Deity, from the mysterious depths of the 
 Triune God. And the Vforld was spared on the ground of 
 that enc^ao-ement, and the angels of God held themselves in 
 
166 THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 readiness to beliold its fulfilment ; and Judaea was j^repared 
 to be the theatre of the great transaction, and imnnmbered 
 eyes were watching for His coming, and unnumbered interests 
 depending on it. 
 
 But when He comes, what laws will He obey? — what 
 appearance will He assume? AVhat laws? the very laws 
 which man had broken. What appearance ? that of the 
 very nature which man had degraded. And when the fulness 
 of time was come, a body was prepared Him — God sent forth 
 His Son, made of a woman, made under the law. And you 
 know what He proceeded to do. All the powers of that body 
 He placed at the disposal of the will of God. Think what 
 He found man doing with those powers, and how He shewed 
 what might be done with them, what compassion might beam 
 from those eyes, what grace might flow from those lips, what 
 blessino's midit fall from those hands, and how He thus 
 convicted the human will, and vindicated the ]\Iaker of that 
 frame. Mark, again, what He did with the laws and objects 
 of nature ; hoAv He shewed that, could we gain the whole, it 
 would avail us nothing if we employed it contrary to the will 
 of God — that, were we to lose the whole, or to have only a 
 cup of cold water left, that, if placed at the disposal of the 
 Divine will, would fall in with the glory of God. But there 
 were other laws than those of material nature, laws essential 
 to the spiritual wellbeing of the creature, and to the holy 
 government of God, and He had come from a world where 
 no other laAV obtained. But here, wherever He looked. He 
 found himself in a world in which almost every law obtained, 
 except this ; and hence, when asked to teach a i:)rayer, what 
 could He teach but this ? — it was the only object for which 
 He had come here — " Thy will be done on earth as it is in 
 heaven.'' But was not this a hopeless petition ? Ah, little 
 did the disci2:)les know what an answer it was about to receive 
 in His own person ! Little did they imagine the mighty pur- 
 pose which even then was swelling in His heart ; for, as He 
 said it. His eye was fixed on the place of sacrifice, and He 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 167 
 
 himself tlie willing victim, was advancing towards it ! But 
 will He live to reach it ? for, see. He is in an agony. The 
 dregged and bitter cup is placed before Him ; will He take 
 it ? Is there no possibility of its passing from Him ? " No,'' 
 saith He ; " not as I will, but as thou wilt.'" But, see, the 
 worst is not yet. A shadow settles on His soul. " My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me?'' Can He endure it? 
 But while we ask, He is heard adding, " It is finished •" and 
 He surrenders His life. 
 
 Brethren, in that event the will of God was done, in a way 
 in which it was never done before, never can be done again. 
 An eternal purpose was fulfilled, and the whole of God's pre- 
 ceptive law was vindicated, satisfied, enthroned in the eyes of 
 the universe. Considering the dignity of the Being vv^ho 
 suffered, had He only signified His willingness to obey — yes, 
 had He never actually come into our world, had He but 
 verbally signified His readiness to come, should His coming 
 be necessary — even that would have reflected greater honour 
 on the law of God, which He was thus ready to obey, than it 
 could ever receive from all human, all angelic obedience. But 
 that He should literally have done this — that He, the second 
 person in the Trinity, should in any sense have come forth from 
 the Godhead — that He, who had known no necessity but that 
 of being, and of being what He was, should have brought 
 himself under obligation — that He, the Creator, should range 
 himself in a line with His own creatures, and subject himself 
 to His own laws — that He should be seen by the universe in 
 a station of obedience ; who, after that, can refuse to obey ? 
 That He of His own free will should consent to serve — to 
 suffer — what creature-ioill but must feel constrained to 
 yield ? And that He should do this in order that the T\dll of 
 God, as prescribed in law, might not go unfulfilled — that He 
 should find glory in it — the very highest glory, in this volun- 
 tary subordination to it ; did it not shew earth might be trans- 
 formed into heaven — did it not stimulate and heighten the 
 obedience of angels — did it not point the whole intelligent 
 
168 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 universe the only way to jDerfection — obedience to the will of 
 God? Yes, by His obedience unto death, the will of God 
 was done on earth, as it had never been done even in heaven 
 — done in a manner which makes earth, from its centre to its 
 surface, holy ground — done so as to secure the means of con- 
 verting even this sin-worn world into a loyal province of the 
 King of kings. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And this brings us, fourthly, to the consideration of these 
 means. Do you ask how the will of the rebellious world is to 
 be brought back into harmony with the will of God? " Not 
 by might, nor by jDOwer " — not by coercion and force ; " but 
 by my Spirit, saith the Lord " — by my Spirit taking of the 
 things of Christ — taking of His voluntary obedience, and 
 shewing that He, though in the form of God, made Himself 
 of no reputation — assumed a dependent life expressly that He 
 might be able to obey the very will which man had ruined 
 himself by resisting ; taking of His love, and shewing how 
 He wept over the infatuation of our disobedience — how freely 
 He poured out His blood, in order that the law might not 
 take our blood, might be satisfied without it; taking of His 
 mediatorial glory, and shewing that He is now seated on a 
 throne — seated there to receive our submission, to welcome 
 our return, to place us once more in harmony with the will 
 of God, and to assure us of His favour. And, in this way, 
 the Spirit deals with our will as will — not compelling, but 
 influencing — not forcing, but shewing it motives — affecting 
 it by reasons, and enabling it to feel them. 
 
 1. Now, do you not see that when the luill of the penitent 
 is secured, the whole man is secured? We just now shewed 
 that, before man was created, the will of God was done here 
 — that is, his natural will — involuntarily by material laws 
 and objects ; that man was endowed with the power of doing- 
 it voluntarily, and of subjecting his material body, and all 
 the objects of nature to the same service ; but that, by sin, 
 
THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. I G9 
 
 he had not only withdraT\ai his mind but his body, and all 
 nature also as far as he could, from their allegiance to God. 
 But, now, the recovery of the will is the recovery of all the 
 rest. The whole man returns. His will cannot come back 
 to God alone; his will is the sovereign part of his nature; 
 and if the master-faculty return to God, all the rest come 
 back with it. ' We beseech you," says the apostle, "by the 
 mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice/' 
 Your souls have surrendered — your wills have submitted; 
 and now, therefore, we address them — we beseech them, by 
 the saving mercies of God, to let the surrender be entire — to 
 present your bodies also. And can the renewed and obe- 
 dient will refuse? What! when the man has to make his 
 way back to the long-forsaken altar through a road of mer- 
 cies ? What ! when he finds that altar transformed into a 
 cross; and on that cross another sacrifice— the body of the 
 Lamb of God; can he hesitate to present his owa. body as 
 a living sacrifice? He feels it to be a reasonable service. 
 And as he takes the living off'ering into the Divme pre- 
 sence, and brings back with it his property, his influence, 
 his all, and feels that the whole is once more where it 
 should be, in harmony with the will of God — and enjoj'-s 
 the delight of dedication to His service, spontaneously the 
 language bursts from his lips — " I delight to do thy will, 
 my God.'' 
 
 2. Here, then, is a willing agent for God. Wonderful as 
 was the creation of a finite will at first — wonderful as was 
 the introduction into the universe of a second will — here is a 
 greater wonder still, — the recovery of a lost will to God — a 
 will which had been led captive by Satan at his will, set at 
 liberty, and restored, and once more moving in conformity 
 with God's will. What if he could prevail on other wills to 
 unite with his will — how vastly would that increase his 
 power of serving God 1 Such a community of wills often 
 exists for other purposes; and wherever it does exist few 
 things can withstand it — it bears everything before it. But 
 
170 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 only imagine a commnnity of wills to exist in relation, not 
 merely to some particular end, however good, but in relation 
 to some great central object around which all other objects 
 revolved, and to which they were subservient. Conceive 
 those wills to be moving harmoniously together, not merely 
 towards an end, however good, but towards the end for which 
 all other ends exist, and exist only as means. Conceive this 
 community of created wills to be ever moving in harmony 
 with the central and supreme will of God — to regard each indi- 
 cation of His will as the loftiest motive for their wills — each 
 movement of His will as the broad and open path of freedom 
 for theirs ; suppose even their desires to be accordant vaih. 
 their luills, so that in uttering the language of the one they 
 should be giving expression to the other — and that the lan- 
 guage most expressive of their united and highest energy 
 should be, " Thy will be done " — thy will, as the only means 
 of satisfying our wills — and in order that our wills, our whole 
 nature, may find perfection. What a sublime spectacle would 
 such a scene present ! — a community of renewed creatures, of 
 enfranchised wills, finding the very perfection of haj)piness 
 and fi'eedom in the perfection of obedience. 
 
 Now, this is simply what the Christian Church should be ; 
 and here are the human means by which the world is to be 
 recovered to God. The individual convert is not to live to 
 himself. How can he, when the means of his redemption 
 has been the voluntary sacrifice of the Son of God ? How 
 can he, when he is no longer his own, for he is bought with 
 a price ? Henceforth he is to glorify God in his body, and in 
 his spirit, which are the Lord's. And how is he to do this, 
 but by living for the same great purpose for which the 
 Saviour died ? God tuills it ; and God's will is now become 
 his will. Are others converted by his means ? They are to 
 unite with him for the furtherance of the same puri^ose. 
 God luills it; and they are now His willing servants. "With 
 one mind, and one heart," they are to glorify God. Do they 
 succeed in the conversion of others ? Every soul brought 
 
THE SON IN CAEN ATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 171 
 
 back to God, is to be an addition to them. God loills it; 
 Christ prays for it — " that they all may be one, that the 
 world may believe that thou hast sent me." Do they pant, 
 and pray for, and unitedly will the recovery of the entire 
 world ? God wills it, too — wills that "all men be saved, and 
 come to the knowledo;e of the truth.'' So that, as often as 
 they go into the presence of God and commune with Him 
 on the great topic of His will being done on earth, He 
 unites and compacts them into one body, sprinldes them 
 afresh with consecrating blood, assures them that His will 
 and theirs are one, and sends them forth to effect it : He 
 comes forth with them, moves where they move, speaks 
 through them, works with them — causing them to triumph 
 in every place. 
 
 For a Church thus ready, everything is ready; their 
 own property is ready, for they have placed that at God's 
 disposal; their persons are ready, for their bodies are at 
 the disposal of their will, and their will is in harmony 
 with God's will ; their fellow members are ready, for they 
 are all filled with the same purpose, and devoted to the same 
 end. The Spirit is ready — the world is ready ; for while the 
 Chmxh is saying, Come, the Spuit adds his power to the call; 
 and every one that hears, obeys, and sends on the message 
 further. Eor such a Church, all nature is ready — the very 
 laws of matter, which man had pressed into the service of 
 sin, become subservient to the will of God. AU the earth 
 becomes, for such a Church, a magazine of rich resources — 
 its silver and gold, its winds and waves, its labours of art 
 and discoveries of science, its toils of trade and changes of 
 empire — all tell on the great result. Was not this their 
 original design ? — is not this their ultimate destination ? 
 " All things are by him, and for him." His Church is only 
 bringing them back to Him. For this He has been waiting 
 — waiting for a willing Church ; for this all things are wait- 
 ing and ready. We ask, then, Is this the state of the 
 Christian Church ? 
 
172 THE BON IN CAEN ATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 V. 
 
 But, before proceeding to apply and enforce the subject, 
 let me recapitulate. "We have seen that every intelligent 
 creature is bound to do the will of God, and is constituted 
 to find happiness in doing it ; that man revolted, j^erverted 
 everything which had been given into his hand, and exposed 
 himself to destruction ; that his recoveiy to God was made 
 possible by the amazing expedient of the voluntaiy substitu- 
 tion and sacrifice of the Son of God, and, through that, by 
 the agency of the renewing Spirit (the one atoning for his 
 guilt, the other liberating and restoring his will) ; and that 
 as many as are thus " made free from sin, and become the 
 servants of God," are thus to judge, that as Christ died for 
 all, they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves ; 
 that they should henceforth know no will but His, but live 
 to carry out the purposes of His atoning death. 
 
 On two points, then, the will of God is clear : first, that 
 all the redeemed should join in seeking the recovery of those 
 who are still in revolt ; and, secondly, that as to the manner 
 of doing this, it should be in imitation of the devotedness of 
 Christ. 
 
 The question naturally arises, then, How is it, if the 
 Divine provision be all complete, and the sanctified human 
 means so well understood — how is it that the will of God is 
 not universally obeyed, after the example of our Saviour 
 Christ ? Eighteen hundred years have elapsed since He said, 
 " Lo, I come,"' and the redemption of the world Avas efiected. 
 Has the world since then been converted, and again apos- 
 tatized ?— or, has the Gospel been taken to the world, and 
 imiversally rejected ? No ; wherever it has been taken, it 
 has been received by numbers. How then, we repeat, is the 
 present condition of the world to be accounted for ? By the 
 state of the Church. 
 
 Brethren, this is the point on which, for a few moments, I 
 would earnestly press you. Whatever the doctrinal heresies 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 173 
 
 of the day may be — and grievous they are — the great inacti- 
 cal heresy, peculiar to no one denomination, but belonging, in 
 different degrees, to all, is that of a defective zeal. They seem 
 to forget, that in praying that the will of God may be done 
 in the world, they are presupposing that it is done already 
 in the Church. They forget that their Master could say, 
 " ]\Iy meat is to do the mil of him that sent me, and to finish 
 his work '' — and they are to copy His obedience. They are 
 content to obey in a far different manner — only at times — 
 or in a spirit of rivalry, or with reluctance. And so long 
 have they continued thus, that they have almost lost the 
 sense of obligation to obey in any other manner. To speak 
 to them of copying the devotedness of Christ, is regarded 
 generally as fanatical, and the thing itself as impossible. 
 They are content to copy from each other — age from age, 
 and Church from Church— so that the will of God, as Christ 
 obeyed it, and as His people obeyed it— even as to the sjnrit 
 of that obedience — mean two widely different things. 
 
 And does not this sufficiently explain why the will of God 
 is not yet triumphant on earth? God has given a certain 
 constitution to nature; and if men do not observe the laws 
 of that constitution, can aught but failm-e and disappointment 
 ensue? ^Ye hear much of the triumphs of modern science; 
 and the secret of the whole is, that men have come to find 
 that they cannot dictate to nature, but must be content to 
 learn its laws from itself These laws are just God's will 
 concerning the operations of matter; and obedience to these 
 is the lesson of humility which philosophy has had to learn. 
 And this, brethren, this is the great lesson of humility and 
 obedience which the Church has to learn in reference to the 
 laws of the kingdom of gTace. This is the great discovery 
 which the Christian Church has yet to make— that it is 
 only by ascertainmg the will of God, and then abandon- 
 ing itself to the performance of that will, that it will ever 
 be honoured as the means of bringing back the world to 
 obedience. 
 
17 4i THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 AYe do not say that Christians have made no progress in 
 learning this great lesson. All the success which they have 
 achieved of late years, as a missionary Church, is owing to 
 their j^artial obedience to the will of God. But j^artial obe- 
 dience will only be followed by partial success. The same 
 God who has given a constitution to nature, has constituted 
 His Church according to certain laws, and has made its 
 prosperity to depend on its acting in harmony with these 
 laws; but they have tried to obtain the prosperity without 
 the obedience. God's will is, that the wellbeing of His 
 people should depend on their constant aggressions upon the 
 world around them ; they hoped to find it in living to them- 
 selves, and they failed. God's will is, that the Gospel shoidd 
 be their only instrument of success ; they tried compulsion, 
 and they signally failed. God's will is, that they should be 
 not merely active in His cause, but that they should form a 
 distinct, spiritual, devoted community, copying the obedience 
 of Christ : they have been trying — are trying still — whether 
 less will not do ; whether doing it in a manner in which the 
 world can join — can even compete with them — will not 
 suffice; and in so far they have failed. They seem to forget 
 that a want of compliance with the will of God is a part of 
 man's original disease — is the very evil under which the 
 world is labouring — and which they are required instru- 
 mentally to remedy. Surely they do not expect to reclaim 
 the world from its wilfulness while they themselves are doing 
 their o^Yll will? 
 
 But, brethren, deeply as we are convinced that the Church 
 is not alive to the full extent of its missionary obligations, we 
 believe tliat it is awaking, and will yet feel them more than 
 ever. Doing the will of God partially has involved the mis- 
 sionary Church in its present straits; Christians are gradually 
 learning that doing it wholly will certainly relieve them. 
 They have so far obeyed, that they are shut up to the neces- 
 sity of obeying still further. God has quickened them ; and 
 they have given, and prayed, and laboured as the Church had 
 
THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 175 
 
 long ceased to do. Let them eopy the devotedness of their 
 Lord, and the work will be done. 
 
 Ask you for motives to such zeal? They come from every 
 quarter — from the heights above, and from the depths below. 
 They come in every form of pity and of terror — of gratitude 
 and -command — of heaven and of hell. So numerous are 
 they, that you will die before you can have numbered them 
 all. So weighty, that you will have left the world before you 
 have felt their entire force. We are told of stars whose light 
 has not yet reached the earth ; some motives there are whose 
 influence has not yet been felt by the Church. ; But we can 
 tell you of motives which some have felt, and by which they 
 were borne on in the service of God through a martyrdom of 
 life and of death. 
 
 1. Need I remind you that one of these motives is the 
 sublime truth — that the brightest example of obedience which 
 heaven now contains is not an angel form, but He who 
 "learned obedience by the things which he suffered"? He 
 now reigns in the same spirit in which He suffered. Yes, 
 His throne is just as much in a line with the will of God as 
 His cross was. While receiving the homage of the seraphim. 
 His language still is, " I delight to do thy will, my God ! '' 
 What an honour is thus reflected on a state of obedience — 
 more than by the devotedness of all heaven besides! What 
 amazing grace that this obedience should be rendered for 
 you, that you may share its rewards! And you are sharing 
 them. He is pleading, and you are heard. He is officiating, 
 and you are enjoying the blessed results. Think what He is 
 doing as your representative there, and say, what ought you 
 to be doing as His representatives here? He is doing your 
 will — answering your highest requests — what ought not you 
 to be ready to do in obedience to His will? 
 
 2. Need I remind you, as another motive, what a theme 
 it is we have to obey and to proclaim. The merest despot 
 finds ready instruments to do his will. Even when his 
 mandates are th,3 l^utchery of a tribe — the slaughter of a 
 
176 THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 province — zealots are not wanting to execute the sanguinary- 
 task. But here is a Sovereign who calls for agents to go 
 forth to a world on which desi^otism has done its worst — 
 Satanic desj)otism, leaving no soul free — commissions them to 
 burst the prison door, and to let the captive free — to smite 
 the idols, and to shiver the chains by which the nations- are 
 bound to them — to pierce the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 and to proclaim light and life from heaven — to stand at the 
 mouth of hell, and to say to the myriads rushing towards it, 
 " We have seen, and do testify that the Father sent the Son 
 to be the Saviour of the world.'' And shall this message of 
 life be delivered with indifference — this office be reluctantly 
 discharged ? 
 
 3. For think, next, of the hajopy results of the reception 
 of this message, as compared with man's present state. I 
 will not remind you how large a proportion of the earth now 
 borders on hell — how many of its regions in Europe are still 
 lost to God — ^how many of its lands in Asia, from Nova 
 Zembla to Siam, and from the Dead Sea to the Eastern 
 Ocean, a territory containing two-thirds of the i^o^^ulation of 
 the globe, are still lost to happiness — how large a portion of 
 Africa, from the shores of Barbary to the Cape of Good Hope, 
 and from the Eed Sea to the Atlantic — and how much of 
 America, three-fifths of its vast continent, is still seeking rest 
 and finding none. I will not attempt to take you round to 
 its idol-gods — call you to listen to its fearful sounds — nor to 
 look on its horrid rites — nor to mark how all its struggles 
 after happiness serve but to aggravate its guilt, and to 
 announce its misery. I will only remind you that, like the 
 troubled sea, it cannot rest. Laws cannot restrain it — nor 
 civilization tame it — nor science save it. Never, till re- 
 claimed to God, can it find its proper place, nor answer its 
 lofty end. But, recovered to a state of holy obedience, all its 
 long-festering wounds would be healed, and its paradise re- 
 gained. Renewed man brought back into harmony with 
 God, — everything would be seen returning to him — the glory 
 
THE SON INCARNATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 177 
 
 of Lebanon coming to liim — the rams of Nebaioth minister- 
 ing to bim — the ships of Tarshish discharging their gold and 
 their incense at his feet — and lie, taking the whole, and 
 laying it down at the feet of God ! What a world, when he, 
 with all his tribes shall be seen there in prostrate and adoring 
 homage ! What a world, when compared with its all-per- 
 vading light, and holiness, and peace — " the former heavens 
 and earth shall not be remembered nor come into mind I" 
 
 4. Think, again, how some, influenced by these motives, 
 have copied the devotedness of Christ. Smnmon the men 
 who counted not their lives dear to them for the sake of 
 Christ ; and they come from the ranks of prophets and 
 ajDOstles, of evangelists and confessors, of reformers, and 
 martyrs and missionaries. Tell us, ye honoured men of God, 
 tell us the secret of your success. But you need not repeat 
 it. One of your number has already disclosed it. You "thus 
 judged, that if one died for all, then were all dead ; and that 
 He died for all, that they who live should not henceforth 
 live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for them, and 
 rose again.'' And thus judging, you lived accordingly. But 
 tell us — in pity to our infirmities, tell us this — had you not 
 to learn the devotedness you exliibited ? Were you long in 
 acquiring proficiency in the sacred art ? Did yoic ever think-, 
 as we do, that self-denial is impossible? We admii^e, and 
 would catch your spirit. Did you not find a state of entire 
 devotedness to the will of God happier, incomparably happier, 
 than a course of defective obedience ? We trust we have 
 enough of your spirit to feel that it must have been so. From 
 the moment your devotedness became entire, your path was 
 clear. Till then, you were often thinking what bearing events 
 would have on your worldly ease and relations ; but from 
 the moment you came to think only of the bearing they would 
 have on the glory of God, your difficulties vanished. Then 
 you could glory even in infirmities — then j^ou could take joy- 
 fully even the spoiling of your goods — then, when the axe 
 and the block were brought out and laid before yom^ eyes, 
 
178 THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 none even of these tilings moved you. In tlie very spirit of 
 Him who could say, when the death of the cross was before 
 Him, " Lo, I come \" yom^ language was, "I am now ready 
 to be offered T" And in proportion to your zeal was your 
 success. -And we are still reaping its fruits, and glorifying 
 God in you. 
 
 5. And then one motive there is, which adds force and 
 solemnity to every other — the fact that He who is the sub- 
 ject and substance of our message, on leaving the world, hath 
 said, "Behold, I come quickly.'' These were His parting 
 words — this the last sentence of His revelation. As if He 
 would ever have the expectation of His second advent fresh 
 and vivid, the last accents which fell on the ear of his Church 
 were these — "Behold, I come quickly \" Do they not imply 
 that there is not a moment to be lost ? Are they not meant 
 to stimulate the lingering progress of the Church into activity? 
 Do they not intimate that the eye of Him who uttered them 
 is already fixed intently on the goal, and that He counts each 
 moment lost which does not bring us nearer to it ? " Behold, 
 He cometh ! " — cometh, not to suffer, but to judge — not now 
 to offer himself up as a sacrifice for sin, but to determine 
 what effects His " one offering" has produced on us — whether 
 it has melted us into penitence and constrained us to obe- 
 dience, or has left us involved in more aggravated guilt. 
 " Behold, He cometh ! " and what though no distant trump, 
 no flashing S2)lendours announce His approach — ^yet still He 
 cometh, and every eye shall see Him. Even now is He on 
 the way. To the eye of faith, even now He is advancing on 
 the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory — advancing 
 to do the will of God in the judgment of the world. 
 
 Come, then, my hearers, and, as if you beheld His descend- 
 ing glory, let each one ask himself, What is the relation 
 which I sustain to Him ? You know that this is the will of 
 God — the duty which takes priority of every other — that you 
 believe on Him Vvdiom He hath sent. Although, therefore, 
 you could point to His altar loaded with your offerings, it 
 
THE SON INCAENATE TO DO THE WILL OF GOD. 179 
 
 would avail you nothing in tlie absence of a living faith. He 
 would still charge you ^^-ith having His Gospel beneath your 
 feet, trampling His will in the dust. 
 
 And you who through grace have believed, "Come,"' says the 
 apostle, and, as the practical ajoplication of this subject, "let 
 us provoke one another to love and to good works." Come, 
 my fellow-Christians, you are the representatives of Christ to 
 the world ; what Christian grace can you omit to exercise ? 
 You are the agents of Christ ; what resources can you dis- 
 pense with ? You are the blood-bought servants of the Son 
 of God; what part or property of your nature does not 
 belong entirely to Him? Christ, a self-sacrificing Saviour, 
 is your example ; and souls smkmg into hell are the objects 
 of your concern ; can you contribute too liberally, pray too 
 earnestly, labour too devotedly, in order to coj)y that example, 
 and to save those souls ? And, behold. He cometh to take 
 an account of your stewardship. A brief period more, and, 
 behold, He will have come. Let your stewardship from this 
 day be of a nature to evince your fidelity, and to answer to 
 the sacredness and magnitude of His claims. 
 
1 80 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 SERMON YIII. 
 
 THE Fl ELD AND HARVEST OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 
 
 John iv. 34-38—" Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him 
 that sent me, and to finish his work. Say not ye, There are yet four 
 months, and then cometh harvest ? behold, 1 say unto you, Lift up your 
 eyes, and look on the fields ; for they are white already to harv^est. 
 And he that reapetli receiveth wages, and gathoreth fruit unto life eter- 
 nal ; that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together. 
 And herein is that saying true, One soweth and another reapeth. I scut 
 you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labour : other men laboured, 
 and ye are entered into their labours." 
 
 ^ fHi0si0nar2 Sermon to tlje goun^* 
 
 This language, you perceive, is liigiily figurative. The natural 
 was designed from the first to suggest and shadow forth the 
 spiritual. The analogy between the two is not accidental or 
 fanciful. They are linked together by an inward affinity — a 
 preordained relation. Some of these resemblances are so 
 obvious, that every civilized language commemorates them. 
 The relation of agriculture to the higher process of human 
 cultivation is so grounded in this deep-laid analogy between 
 nature and spirit, that, in picture-words, proverbs, or parables, 
 it is to be found universally. He who established this system 
 of analogies knew that they were necessary — that only by 
 means of the visible could man rise to the invisible — that 
 only by this sensuous ladder could his angel- thoughts ascend 
 to heaven. The natural, then, may be said to have awaited 
 the commg of the spiritual, in order to find its highest 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUE. 181 
 
 significance. Now, therefore, that He who had made nature 
 had come— now that He who knew all the great spiritual 
 facts enshrined in nature and underlying its commonest 
 
 processes had come, and was standing in the midst of them 
 
 they may be said, like the bending sheaves in Joseph's dream, 
 to have done Him homage — to have pressed forwards for His 
 use, and to have asked consecration at His hands. To His 
 eye the entire scene of nature and of life was one great fact, 
 with the Divine Idea shining through it. His own body, 
 His own human body itself, what was it but the shrine for 
 the Shekinah — the embodiment of the Invisible — the great 
 acted emblem — God manifest in the flesh? 
 
 What wonder, then, that, on the occasion which gave rise 
 to the text, our Lord should be found clothing the spiritual in 
 the vestments of the natural — training His disciples to con- 
 ceive of the dignity of His position as the great world-sower 
 — helping to the birth the new thoughts and the great desires 
 which their relation to Him was hkely to generate? Though 
 His public ministry had but just commenced, He had already 
 begun to appropriate to Himself, not merely the symbolism 
 of nature, but the types of Judaism. Already had John the 
 Baptist pointed Him out as the Lamb of God — the only real 
 expiation — without whom the world would never have had 
 temple, sacrifice, or priest. Already had He himself gone 
 into the temple — the very ark and home of the types — and 
 there, in the presence of priest, altar, and holiest of all, had 
 intimated that He himself was the only reality there — the 
 Divine Eeality, of which they at best were only signs. 
 
 But these seeds of truth had fallen, as far as the Pharisaic 
 Jews were concerned, among thorns and briars. A kindlier 
 soil awaits His cultivation in Galilee. For the present, 
 therefore. He avoids the persecuting spirit of Jerusalem, and 
 takes the shortest road to Galilee — three days' journey — 
 through Samaria. And will He not now wait till the end of 
 His journey before He resumes His instructions — especially, 
 too, as He will have none to address, His disciples excepted, 
 
182 THE FIELD AND HAEVEST 
 
 but hostile, half-lieatlienisli Samaritans? No; the great 
 Sower has gone forth to sow, and He must needs scatter 
 seeds of life even by the waysides of Samaria. As He entered 
 the fertile valley of Shechem, the scene was alive with the 
 different processes of agricultural activity, Fatigued with 
 travelling — j^robably from early morning, and it was now 
 mid-day — He stopped to rest at the ancient well of Jacob. 
 He had sent His disciples into the neighbouring city to 
 purchase food, so that here for awhile He sat alone — a pilgrim 
 on the world's highway. " There cometh a woman of the 
 neighbouring city to draw water. Jesus saith unto her, Give 
 me to drink."" And you know what ensued — how, forgetting 
 His own thirst. He sought to awaken in her a desire for that 
 living water which alone can quench the thirst of the soul — 
 how, finding her unable to apprehend His spiritual meaning, 
 He suddenly turned her attention within, and, as if already 
 sitting on the throne of judgment, disclosed to her the secrets 
 of her owai history — how, in reply to her v>^ondering inquiries, 
 He proclaimed the sj^irituality of the Divine nature, and the 
 universality of the dispensation about to be introduced — and 
 how, filled with joyful anticipations, she hastened away to call 
 others to share the w^onder with her. You remember how 
 His discij^les, on returning, found Him so absorbed in thought 
 that the calls of hunger were no longer heeded; and how, as 
 He beheld the Samaritans thronging to His presence, His 
 language shew^ed that His mind had been far away in a pro- 
 phetic vision of the world sov*ai over with truth, and fruitful 
 in holiness. He who had seen nothing; in the livino^ water 
 but a symbol of the life which He had come to impart — 
 nothing in the food which the disciples offered to His ex- 
 hausted frame but an emblem of the inward refreshment He 
 enjoyed from doing the will of God — now saw nothing in the 
 busy scenes of the pleasant valley, and in the approaching 
 crowd of the Samaritans, but the signs of a glorious harvest, 
 of which He was beginning to sow the seed. 
 
 But then came the thought that He must leave the earth 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 1 83 
 
 before the liarvest-lionic ; that His death and departure were 
 necessary to prepare the way for it. The relation, therefore, 
 in which his apostles would stand to Him was that of reapers 
 — He being at once the seed and the sower — the self-sower 
 — the great seminal word or principle of life. But, besides, 
 that this same relation exists between Christ and all who 
 take up and carry on the apostohc labour, in a subordinate 
 sense each relay of labourers stands in a similar connexion 
 with those that follow. In this lower sense, indeed, everij 
 labourer in the world's field reaps the fruit of those who liave 
 preceded him, and sows for those who come after. For 
 though, viewed as a whole, the final ingathering has yet to 
 come; viewed in parts, it is ever receiving comj)letion. To 
 each generation of Christian labourers it may be truly said, 
 " Other men laboured, and ye are entered into their labours."" 
 My dear young friends — (and to you I now address myself) 
 — this language is peculiarly applicable to you — helongs to 
 you — as the last who have entered the field of labour — some 
 of whom, indeed, are only now in the act of entering it. 
 Sacred is the ground you tread ! Glorious is the succession 
 in which you stand ! Tried and consecrated are all the means 
 you are called on to employ! Sublime is the result to be 
 attained! Welcome, youthful fellow-labourers! We need 
 your co-operation ; we hail your accession ! In the hope of 
 confirming your purpose and engaging the consecration of 
 your powers, let me aim to shew you the high and all-related 
 position you are called to occupy in the field of Christian 
 labour. 
 
 I. 
 
 And, first, let me call attention to the fact, that the field 
 of which we speak is emphatically a sphere of Christian 
 labour — a field in v/hich everything sustains a supreme rela- 
 tion to Christ. Llany a hand, indeed, had scattered heavenly 
 seed in it prior to His coming. Noah had brought across 
 the flood the germs of the Patriarchal faith — truths more 
 
184 THE FIELD AND HAEVEST 
 
 precious than the fruits of Paradise. Judea, too, had been 
 set apart as the garden of the Lord. Cleared of its ancient 
 heathenism, it had been brought under Divine cultivation. 
 " Truth had sprung out of the earth '' — truth more healing 
 than the balm of Gilead, watered by dews more refreshing 
 than those of Hermon. But all the most precious of these 
 truths related to Christ. From the time when the first 
 promise had been dropped into the human heart, like a seed 
 from the tree of life, to the hour when John called the peoj^le 
 to bring forth fruits meet for repentance, every heaven-sent 
 truth was a messenger commissioned to prepare the way of 
 the Lord, and to confirm the assurance of His coming. 
 
 Nor had this Divine cultivation been entirely in vain. 
 Often had " the parched ground become a pool, and the thirsty 
 land springs of water. The glory of Lebanon had been 
 given to it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon."' Many a 
 life-ccivino; truth, too, had been carried to a distance, like a 
 winged seed, and had germinated in other lands. Still, 
 the scene which now stretched before the eye of Christ 
 was, taken as a whole, covered with thorns and briers. 
 You remember His own parabolic descriptions of the 
 state of Judea. A tree cumbering the ground, w^ith an axe 
 ominously lying at its root, was its fitting emblem. A fig- 
 tree denounced for its barrenness, prefigured its doom. Its 
 fields waved, indeed, but it was only with tares. And it 
 exhibited a show of fruit — but " its vine was of the vine of 
 Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah ; its grapes were 
 grapes of gall, its clusters were bitter." For Him who had 
 " come seeking fruit,'' it grew nothing but wood for a cross, 
 a sceptre-reed, and thorns for a crown. 
 
 Looking beyond the confines of Judea, the wide wastes of 
 heathenism met his eye — a world of spiritual sterility. Think 
 of the dreary aspect the earth must have presented on the 
 third morning of the creation-week, when the dry land had 
 only just upheaved, and the fiat which was to clothe it wuth 
 verdure had yet to go forth. Such was an image of the 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 185 
 
 world's moral barrenness. Or, worse still, its condition was 
 one not merely negative of good, but positively evil. Con- 
 ceive, then, of the earth, with all its waters filmed and 
 greened over in stagnant putrescence, and all its rank and 
 matted vegetation exhaling pestilence. The Scriptures speak 
 of " the pollutions of the world '' — Hterally, the miasmata of 
 the world. Every substance, say some j)hilosophers, is sur- 
 rounded with an atmosphere of its own. The world was 
 surrounded with an atmosphere of moral miasma, self- 
 exhaled — steaming with a malaria in which all spiritual life 
 had sickened and died — in which roots of bitterness alone 
 luxuriated, and attained a giant growth. Yes, look where 
 the Saviour might, the unsightliest parts of the earth's sur- 
 face — its dreariest swamps and sternest wilds, its impene- 
 trable jungle and volcanic desolation — did but represent the 
 hopeless aspect of man's moral state. 
 
 And our Lord not only saiu the wide-spreading desolation, 
 He knew its deep necessities, and the utter insufficiency of 
 all mere human remedies. He kncAV the ten thousand vain 
 efforts of art, science, and legislation to reclaim the sphitual 
 waste. He knew how all man's systems of religion had 
 proved fearful aggravations of the evil. He had come to a 
 world wrecked of its hopes, and whose last expedient was 
 exhausted. Wherever He looked, He saw scenes of human 
 woe — scenes in which the only objects which met His eye 
 were the chains of captivity, the struggles of ]3overty, the 
 disappointments of ambition, the misgivings of the self- 
 righteous, the pains of superstition, the exhausted efforts of 
 the sinner lashed by the reproaches of an angry conscience, 
 and unable to escape from a load of guilt. Whenever He 
 listened, He heard the thickening cries of misery — His ear 
 caught a sigh or a sound of woe from every habitation, 
 every breast of man — a never-ebbing tide of the sounds of 
 anguish, strife, and death. And as He looked on the living- 
 mass of misery, heaving, and sm-ging, and travailing in pain 
 together, and remembered that it Avas a chained and a laden 
 
186 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 power, wrestling witli its bondage, striving to rise, uttering 
 a cry, though without thinking of a listener, yearning after 
 a something undefined, and which He knew His Gosjoel 
 alone could suj^ply — He felt that its every sigh and struggle 
 was, in effect, an instinctive appeal that He would hasten 
 the work of deliverance. 
 
 But how will He meet the deep necessity ? For it is a 
 case beyond the reach of mere teaching. The world wants 
 not a system, but deliverance ; not a mere method of deliver- 
 ance, but a deliverer — a j)ersonal redeemer — a being who, 
 taking a survey of man's spiritual wants, can meet them all 
 — can take humanity into his embrace, and invite it to cast 
 itself on his beating heart for repose. How will He meet 
 this exigence? You remember the Godlike manner in which 
 He replied to the inquiry, " Art thou he that should come, 
 or do we look for another?" He answered not in words — 
 entered into no argumentative defence for His claims. " In 
 that same hour,'' it is said, " he cured many of their infir- 
 .mities, and j^l^'ig^^es, and evil spirits, and unto many that 
 were blind he o;ave sio^ht. Then said Jesus unto them. Go 
 your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and 
 heard." This is God's ordinary method of affirming His 
 eternal power and Godhead in nature — by the things which 
 are seen. And now that He hath become manifest in the 
 flesh, He continued His own ordinary method. His words 
 were deeds — His deeds, wonders — His wonders, mercies. 
 And as you see Him preparing for the reception of John's 
 messengers, by surrounding Himself with a mass of misery, 
 disease, and death — and as you behold Him reply to their 
 inquiry by breathing upon the mass, and creating it anew — 
 you behold an emblem of His mode of answering the world's 
 great questions respecting His power to save. Each sej)arate 
 aspect of the world's condition uttered its ovai anxious 
 inquiry — challenged Him to the proof of His power. As 
 guilty; its every j^ang was a messenger which asked, " Canst 
 thou make it i)ossible for a lioly God to forgive us?" As 
 
OF CIIEISTIAN LABOUR. 187 
 
 polluted^; its every consciousness of self-loatliing inquired, 
 "Canst thou renew, restore, lift us to God? Hast thou the 
 Spirit of God?'' As immortal; its every foreboding said, 
 "Hast thou the keys of the invisible world? Canst thou 
 give us life unendmg?" The questions came up in the 
 earnest multitudinous tones of a lost race — a race self-sen- 
 tenced already, and only awaiting the final Amen of the 
 Divine sentence. And you know how He proceeded to reply. 
 It was not a case for words. It demanded Godlike deeds. 
 And, first, He put on the very nature that needed redemp- 
 tion. And He came and stood in the midst of the ruined 
 race, and made their cause His own. One sacrifice was 
 necessary, and He offered it. One agency was necessary, and 
 He secured it. One ground and proof of immortality, and 
 He furnished it. "The hour is come,'' said He — as he 
 girded himself up for the great redeeming act — " the hour 
 is come ; verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat 
 fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone ; but if it die, 
 it bringeth forth much fruit." And He died. He, the germ 
 of all life, descended into the earth. Solemn is the aspect 
 of the fields during the interval between the sowing of the 
 seed and the first springing of the blade — a scene of apparent 
 desolation and death. How unutterably solemn, then, was 
 the moral aspect of the earth during the time that Christ 
 was silent in its bosom ! Imagine that we could now point 
 to a planet and say, " There, in that planet, lies entombed 
 the Son of God !" Would it not assume the appearance of 
 a great moving sepulchre — the very hearse of the universe ? 
 And yet our earth became for a time the grave of the great 
 Life-giver — moved through space, carrying in its bosom tlie 
 Principle of Life. Oh, had man known the magnitude of the 
 interest at stake, during that time every sound on earth would 
 have been hushed in anxious suspense; and, when it was 
 over, and the great Principle of Life emerged, every object 
 might well have commenced an utterance of joy never to be 
 silenced again ! If His incarnation was the great birth of 
 
188 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 time, His resurrection Vv^as the great birtli of eternity. Earth, 
 hitherto the grave of mortality, * became the seed-plot of 
 immortality! He could hardly be said to have jyreaclied 
 salvation, when, lo, the world awoke to find that He had 
 actually jjroci/rec? it ! Of the plan of redemption He had said 
 little; but men looked, and, behold. He had accomplished it! 
 He had been the Gospel, and had made it — supplied all its 
 facts, furnished all its materials. So little had He said 
 beforehand, that, with His deatli, all hope seemed at the point 
 of extmction; but so much liad He done, that thousands since, 
 in every age, have been exploring without exhausting it. 
 
 Henceforth, the world was to become one wide scene of 
 Christian labour. " For for this cause Christ both died, and 
 rose, and revived, that He might be Lord both of the dead 
 and of the living '' — that, having provided the means of the 
 world's res-eneration, He miiiht direct and combine the 
 eneroies of all His servants to that end; that no Christian 
 man might live and work alone and apart, but might augment 
 the value of his labours, and be cheered in their prosecution, 
 by finding that he belongs to a vast confederation. " Where- 
 fore, God also hath highly exalted him, and hath given to 
 him a name which is above every name, that at the 
 name of Jesus every knee should bow;'' — that the world's 
 maoi, humble in their wisdom, should recomise His star 
 and bow at His feet — that the world's Samaritans, heretic in 
 head but orthodox at heart, should say, " We have heard 
 Him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ the 
 Saviour of the world;" — that the world's Greeks, inquiring, 
 earnest, unsatisfied spirits, should come saying, " We would 
 see Jesus;" — that the world's centurions, honest-hearted 
 children of nature, smiting upon their breasts, should say, 
 " Truly, this is the Son of God ! " — that the world's rationalists, 
 like Thomas, should surrender their doubts and their souls 
 with the exclamation, " My Lord, and my God ! " — that every 
 rival power, every false religion, every idol god, should be 
 summoned in His name, and, as it falls from its throne. 
 
OP CHEISTIAN LAEOUE. 189 
 
 should siirrendcr to Him its pretended majesty and i:>ower; 
 — tlicat every scattered ray of liglit should be woven into the 
 many cromis which are on His head, every wreath of 
 incense the world exhales be collected into the censer of 
 homage offered to Him; — that, "instead of the thorn should 
 come up the fir-tree, and instead of the brier should come up 
 the myrtle-tree, that it might be to Him for a name, for an 
 everlasting sign, that should not be cut off/' 
 
 II. 
 
 Now, secondly, this is a field, in the cultivation of which 
 all the labourers are connected and continuous — " one soweth 
 and another reapeth/' They had need to be so ; for it is a 
 work for all time. The original command respecting the 
 earth's natural cultivation — " replenish the earth, and sub- 
 due it, and have dominion over it '' — implied similar con- 
 tinuity and effort — and is yet unfulfilled. In each instance, 
 man, in his indolence, would doubtless have fain had the 
 work accomplished /o?' him ; and, in his impatience, would 
 have had it accomplished at once. " But my thcuahts are 
 not your thoughts, saith the Lord.'' By the present arrange- 
 ment, man finds his own welfare while seeking the good of 
 others — finds the dignity of the individual in the union of 
 the race — and finds in the dependence of the whole upon 
 God, the secmity of human happiness, and the attainment of 
 the Divine glory. 
 
 Your own character, dear young friends, is not the forma- 
 tion of a day, nor of a single influence. A thousand seeds 
 have germinated in it akeacly, each cast in by a different 
 hand. The product of these has been re-so^vn there ao-ain 
 and again. Your character of to-day is the summation of 
 all your conscious past. 
 
 There was a time, too, when this country had yet to be 
 discovered. Think what a chain of labourers must Lave been 
 at work here, from the time when the first tree of the wilder- 
 ness was cut down, before we could have reached the present 
 
190 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 2:»oi]it of civilization. And still the work is only in progress. 
 Wliicli of our meclianical inventions is completed ? Society 
 is in tlie midst of a great unfinished fabric. Literally, most 
 of the great buildings of Europe, though begun ages ago, are 
 still incomplete. And, if science be a temple, it will be found 
 that it is still rising ; and that, though the workmen may at 
 times have, been inclined to thwart and to depreciate each 
 others i^articular labours, yet, without any preconcerted 
 scheme of theirs, the hewn and sculptured stones which they 
 bring from their respective quarries only need to be put 
 to2:ether, in order to shew that there is one mind which 
 superintends the whole. If civilization be a j^yramid, the 
 first stone was laid before man had yet trod the banks of the 
 Nile ; and though every age has seen it advance in some 
 part, its head still rises higher. The guesses of one age 
 become the settled convictions of the next. Discoveries link 
 on to each other. Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton — 
 here is a chain of mind — a single line of descent. Art prac- 
 tises, science deduces the laws of the practice, philosoj^hy 
 exjiounds and theorizes the whole, and so j)i'e23ares for a 
 wider application of the art. And thus the great ^\?i\\ evolves 
 from age to age. " The present is the child of the past, and 
 the mother of the future." 
 
 Similarly, the movements and instrumentalities of the 
 Church are embraced in one all-connecting j^lan. A i^rin- 
 ciple of unity pervades the entire scope of Divine revelation 
 from the Fall to the coming of Christ. ]Man, made/o?- God, 
 and to be redeemed hy Him, is the great truth which con- 
 nects and gives continuity to the whole. And this unity, 
 reflected from the mind of God in His word, is found 
 responded to in the history of the world without. Nothing 
 that belonged to the jDast economy existed for itself alone. 
 The long succession of i)ro]3hets, standing like a line of light 
 along the darkness of ages, " prophesied of the grace that 
 should come unto us." Every prediction, and every type, 
 every voice from the oracle, and every victim bleeding before 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 191 
 
 the altar, together with every event apjiarently insulated and 
 adverse, belonged in reality to a system which looked on to 
 the future for its meaning and its value. In tliis sense, the 
 Saviour came to a world prepared for Him, and awaiting 
 Him. ]\Iany a system pretending deliverance had preceded 
 Him, but had to fight its Avay, or to force a place for itself — 
 for no place had been provided for it — and as such it was 
 doomed to perish. But Christ came, not to destroy, but to 
 fulfil — to interpret all that was spiritual in the past — to take 
 up man's fallen hopes — to shew that He himself was the 
 world's great want, by actually meeting its exigence. He 
 came into a world of bleeding altars, to offer Himself up once 
 for all. He entered into the tem2)le, to absorb the types, to 
 rend the veil, and to lead the worshippers close to the mercy- 
 seat. He ascended a vacant throne, to give repentance and 
 the remission of sins. Throudi Him the world then began 
 to reap all ilidit- others had sown. Not a seed had been lost. 
 No man had lived unto himself. The work had survived the 
 workman. Things which had failed of man's particular aims 
 had subserved God's general plan. Nothing excellent had 
 perished. A line, drawn by an unseen hand, had circum- 
 scribed and saved the whole. 
 
 But more; not only are this connexion and continuity 
 traceable alike in the field of civilization and of relioion, the 
 former exists for the latter, the material for the spuitual, and 
 is comprehended within it. We err, dear young friends — we 
 do injustice to the great scheme of the world's recovery, if we 
 look at it only in parts and fragments. The philosoj)her of 
 nature acts far more wisely with his subject, for he views it 
 in its general laws. If you point him to an apparent excep- 
 tion to these laws, he tells you that it is apparent only, that 
 the instance falls under a yet higher law, that nature is a 
 whole; and thus he not merely saves its character, but exhibits 
 its majesty. If he be a sceptic in rehgion, nearly all the 
 faults he has to find with it are such as arise from his look- 
 ing at it in parts, from not viewing it as he does his favourite 
 
192 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 nature, as a connected scheme. Let him only reverse his 
 treatment of the two subjects, and he would reverse their 
 aspects ; nature would then appear to be exceptional, frag- 
 mentary, a mass of mystery and contradiction, while revela- 
 tion would rise on his view sunlike, a law-pervaded and a 
 light-pervaded whole. Better would it be, however, that he 
 should view each as, in a sense, entire in itself Best of all, 
 that he should ascend to a loftier point of view, where, in the 
 light of truth, he would see the two become one, the natural 
 waiting on the spiritual, and finding its highest value in 
 yielding it service. 
 
 Let him not object that the laws of the spiritual and the 
 j)rovidential are less clear and traceable than are those of the 
 natural world. He knows full well, if he knows anything on 
 the subject, that even in the material world, his laws hide 
 themselves in mystery just in proportion to their generality 
 and their power. Heat, light, gravitation, electricity — are 
 they not impalpable, imjjonderable, mysterious ? and yet are 
 they not among the all-pervading and ultimate forces of 
 nature? Analogy, then, would seem to require that any 
 power superior to these should be proportionally more recon- 
 dite — that any law 5?/j:)ernatural and com23rehending these 
 should be proportionably more difficult to trace. Not only 
 is the mystery comjMtiUe v/ith the fact, but an evidence in 
 its behalf 
 
 And in affirming the subordination of the natural, the 
 social, and the civil, to the spiritual, what are we saying but 
 that the inferior should serve the superior ? Of all the prin- 
 ciples of powers which move society, the mightiest are those 
 which partake of a moral nature. They appeal to all that is 
 most profound and central in our nature. They draw to 
 themselves the depth and mass of our being. They are 
 greater than mere thrones. They are themselves princi- 
 palities and powers. He that has them is mightier than all 
 men that have them not. They enlist in their behalf the 
 spiritual and untiring part of humanity, that part which 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 193 
 
 c<annot he fatigued — wliicli needs no pause — allows no truco 
 — entails its cause from generation to generation. 
 
 Now, the Bible not only affirms this subordination of every 
 other kingdom, natural and human, to the kingdom of God, it 
 records the proofs of it. It conducts us to a point from which 
 we can survey the course of history of more than four thou- 
 sand years. In the light of its guidance we see nations the 
 most selfish and unwieldy, unconsciously acting as His "rod," 
 His " sword,'" parts of the machinery of His providence. We 
 see events the most unmeaning suddenly lighted up with a 
 Divine significance — agents the most obscure, and insulated, 
 and remote, called and invested with a commission from 
 heaven — elements the most feeble and imperfect, gradually 
 rising into importance and taking their j^lace as recognized 
 powers — forces the most hostile, yielding involuntary tribute 
 — the wrath of man, not his faith, his obedience, his humility, 
 but the very wrath of man, his worst passions armed and 
 raging, made to praise God, to yield notes which reach the 
 skies only to blend with the song of the seraphim. We see 
 an entire people ever revolting and wandering, and yet never 
 allowed to j^ass beyond the lines of a given plan — we see that 
 in that comprehensive plan every useful agent had his post 
 assigned, every adverse event its hour foreknoTm. And yet 
 we see that the whole series was so forelaid that the moral 
 freedom of no accountable being was violated — that an act 
 apj^arently the most incidental,, was yet in harmony with the 
 determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God — that the deed 
 which consummated human guilt, consummated at the same 
 time the Divine purpose of human redemption. Vv^ho, after 
 that, can cjuestion the all-subordinating and all-employing 
 nature of God's great scheme for man's recovery ? Was it 
 not one of the designs of that event to teach the fact ? 
 
 Eut, as if to set the question entirely and for ever at rest, 
 no sooner could our Lord say, in His mediatorial capacity, 
 "All power is mine," than He added, "Go, preach the gospel 
 to every creature ; '' intimating that tlic use which He pro- 
 
194) THE FIELD AND HAEVEST 
 
 poses to make of all power is to promote tlie ends for wliicli 
 He died. As if, liavino- entered tlie spacious treasury of God, 
 and taking account of all its resources — ^having reckoned up 
 all the agencies at His disposal, and marked their respective 
 capacities for His service — having looked down through all 
 the ages of time, counted its generations, and numbered its 
 events — He had said, " All these shall be harmonized, com- 
 bined, and made contributory to the one object of human 
 salvation/' And the course of the world's history ever since 
 can be understood only as it is read in the light of this media- 
 torial purpose. Ever since the Gospel was brought to our 
 own land, the history of Britain, pro2)erly understood, is 
 only the history of the Gospel struggling for its right place 
 and power among us. It may be quite true, as it is said, 
 that only one- third of the seed which the husbandman casts 
 into the earth springs up again. But infallibly true it is, 
 that not a single seed sown by the Christian labourer ever 
 perishes absolutely. In the very act of sowing outwardly, 
 he is sowing inwardly, too ; and even if the former fail, the 
 latter will be certainly productive of fruit. Though he may 
 see no immediate product, tlie sowing of one age may be the 
 harvest of the next. He may close his career at the stake or 
 the block, but the very blood of the martyrs is the seed of 
 the Church. A Wycliffe's bones may be disinterred, and 
 their ashes scattered to the winds of heaven ; but before he 
 has yet descended to the grav.e, the youthful Huss, growing 
 up in an obscure village of Bohemia, is divinely preparing for 
 the subsequent reception and dissemination of his views. 
 Huss himself may die a martyr's death ; but, a century later, 
 and Luther shall be hispired by his example, and shall surpass 
 his"^ laljours. There is no break in the chain, no rupture in the 
 continuity of events leading to the one result — the restoration 
 of man to God. Aim at this, and you stand in a noble suc- 
 cession — you walk in a consecrated path — you move v/ithin 
 the limits of a Divine plan. Labour here, and you work 
 within a circle of which the Cross is the centre — you reap in 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 11)5 
 
 a field wliere Christ himself hath been the sower — you become 
 labourers together with God — and, therefore, associated Avith 
 interests too momentous to fail, with efforts too great and 
 sacred to be denied success, with ends and purposes dating 
 from one eternity and embracing another, 
 
 III. 
 
 But if the Christian labourers are thus connected and con- 
 tinuous, it follows, thirdly, that we, in the present day, in 
 carrying out their labours, inherit peculiar facilities and 
 advantages. And we do so. "Others have laboured, and 
 we have entered into their labours.'' -We stand as in the 
 midst of a waving corn field. Time was when the seed had 
 not yet been cast into the ground, v/hen the ground itself 
 was a wilderness, when the wilderness resounded only to the 
 howl and the roar of beasts of prey. 
 
 I have already glanced at the state of the world when the 
 Divine missionary — the Eedeemer himself — ^was here. And 
 I have observed that His words v>^ere chiefly acts. Look at 
 His conduct, as described in the context, in this light, and 
 you will see how immensely the Gospel has moved the world 
 on since then. Why, for example, did the Saviour send His 
 disciples to buy bread of the Samaritans ? For the Jews had 
 no dealings with the Samaritans, and their mutual hostility 
 was only a samj^le of the general state of things. Nation 
 stood frowning against nation all the world over. Such 
 hostility was deemed as good as religion — was religion. 
 Even Celsus, in the second century after, adduced it as a 
 conclusive argument against the Gospel, and as enough to 
 prove the madness of its Author, that it j^rojoosed to do away 
 with this hostility — that it actually dreamt of uniting Greeks, 
 Lybians, barbarians — all men to the ends of the earth — in the 
 reception of one and the same doctrine. If asked, then, for 
 an explanation of our Lord's conduct on this occasion, in 
 sending His disciples to the Samaritans, and in abiding with 
 them for a time Himself, I reply that it was j^artly to j)rotest 
 
196 THE FIELD AND HAEYEST 
 
 against this alienation of race from race — to ignore all social 
 distinctions, excej^t those arising from wisdom and folly, 
 righteonsness and iniquity — to announce the unity, the 
 brotherhood of the human race — to jDroclaim that all men 
 are blood relations. Yes, here you behold Him in the act 
 of sowing the first seed of this great world-uniting truth; 
 preparing the way for the sublime commission, " Go, preach 
 my Gospel to every creature under heaven/' 
 
 I need not tell you of the lov/ estimate which heathenism 
 formed of woman — how it degraded her from her social 
 rank — sensualized her nature. Even the Eabbhis forbade 
 her instruction — deemed her incapable of it — first made her 
 clesj^icable, and then despised her. Yet here our Lord is 
 seen conversing with one of these despised ones — assuming 
 her power to appreciate truth — vindicating her right to 
 possess it — and even permitting her to become His first 
 herald to her half-heathen fellow-citizens. Here was a 
 prediction and a promise of what His gospel woidd do for 
 woman, and, through her, for you — for the world. For do 
 not many of us owe it to her instrumentality that the Gospel 
 smiled upon our infancy, taught us to lisj? the sacred name, 
 beckoned us to its worship), impressed us with its truth? 
 And does not the great cause of Gliristian missions, and 
 therefore the world, owe it to her hallowing maternal 
 influence that many of its most efiicient agents early con- 
 secrated themselves to the high ofiice of reclaiming the 
 heathen to God ? 
 
 I see the Saviour, on this occasion, sowing the seed of 
 another great truth of which we are now reaping the fruit. 
 The object of His compassionate address was not only a 
 foreigner and a woman, but poor. And, doubtless, those with 
 whom He tarried the two days were of the same lowly class. 
 But this was an invasion of another general custom. The 
 poor were supposed to possess no riglits. If the Greek 
 looked clo^vn on the barbarians, the freeman des2:)ised the 
 slave, the j)hilosopher the simple, the wealthy — nay, all united 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 197 
 
 in despising the poor. "Tliis people which knoweth not the 
 law/' said the proud Pharisee, "are cursed"— this ignorant 
 and contemptible class is forsaken of God and doomed to 
 destruction. Eeligion itself had become an exclusive privi- 
 lege — an aristocratic affair. But here we behold Him who 
 had been annointed to preach the Gospel to the poor, opening 
 His commission — anointing the masses — taking the poor 
 to His heart — inaugurating the peo;ple to the privileges of His 
 kingdom. Here, first, we see Him adopting the poor for 
 His chents — raising an insurrection, the insurrection of the 
 heart and the reason, against all class oppression — ^vindicating 
 the sacredness of individual and universal man as man. 
 
 Dear yomig friends, you do not think of asking whether 
 these civilizing seeds have germinated or not. The society in 
 which you live demonstrates it. Your only wonder is, that 
 the world should have ever required them to be sowm. And 
 this very wonder of yours is a measure of the social advan- 
 tao-e you are at this moment deriving from the Gospel. We 
 should now deem the absence of the very virtues inconceivable, 
 the 'presence of which was once deemed impossible. Prin- 
 ciples and aims which a Celsus urged as conclusive against 
 the Gospel, because, in his view, unattainable, are now become 
 so familiar as to be placed among the lowest of our arguments 
 in its favour. 
 
 But we can be more specific still. As to Divine revelation 
 itself; is it nothing that the temple of Truth is complete — 
 that age after age saw it rise, till at length the august dome 
 attained its height, and the top-stone was brought forth? As 
 to the validity of the Gospel; what if the first onset against 
 it had yet to be made — what if that first appeal against its 
 persecutors, "And now, Lord, behold their threatenings, and 
 grant unto thy servants that with all boldness they may speak 
 thy word"— what if that appeal had only just been uttered 
 —what if we had only just returned from carrying the 
 slaughtered Stephen to his burial, and from looking on the 
 martyrdom of Antipas ? Is it nothing to know that though 
 
198 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 the Gospel denoiincctl not merely all tlie gods of tlie world's 
 Pantheon, but went deeper still, and i')roclamied eternal war 
 against the ver)^ principles and propensities of human nature 
 which had given them birth, it should yet have triumphed ? — 
 that though it has evaded no difficidty, turned aside from no 
 foe, has even gone in search of Satan's seat, it has yet survived 
 every conflict, and found tlie hour of its crisis the season of its 
 greatest triumphs? — that after passing through every variety 
 of external ordeal to which it is ever likely to be subjected, 
 it should prove to have gathered strength from conflict, to 
 have drawn its ablest champions from the ranks of its greatest 
 foes, and be, at present, more vigorous and aggressive than 
 ever ? As to its universal adaptation ; is it nothing to know 
 that, not a people here and there merely, but nations in every 
 stage of civilization, and exhibiting almost every variety of 
 political and moral condition, have abandoned their idolatries 
 and embraced the Christian name — that in its travels of mercy 
 it has pierced continents of the grossest darkness, and made 
 them light in the Lord — calmed the temj^est of the soul in 
 the very height and fuiy of its rage — numbered among its 
 converts many who were once the vilest of their race — and, 
 wherever it has gone, has erected monuments of its power to 
 save ? We pass to the field of missionary eff'ort over tlie 
 wrecks of ancient systems, and through scenes of early Gospel 
 triumph — and shall we not feel the inspiration of the scene? 
 The idols we have now to assail have been long ago routed 
 under other names, and in other lands ; and the sword we 
 wield routed them. 
 
 As to our home facilities for sending the Gospel abroad; 
 they are the fruits of ages of toil — of a patience that could 
 not be wearied, and a faith that would not be denied. If the 
 seventeenth century was the age of missionary j)reparation and 
 promise, when the Church was just starting from its long deep 
 sleep, as it caught the wail and the shriek of the Pagan world 
 — the eighteenth began to fulfil that promise, as the age of 
 missionary association — and the nineteentli took the character 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUE. 199 
 
 of tlie age of missionary entcrj^rise. There was a time when 
 the enterprise was the olyect of ahiiost universal scurrility 
 and invective. Is it no advantage to join it at a period 
 when public opinion has determined in its fixvour — when it 
 has come to be recognized as one of the great moving forces 
 of the a,ge, to take its place among the noblest of the powers 
 that be ? There was a time when the Church itself had to 
 be aroused and conciliated in its behalf Is it a sli<dit 
 advantage to be allied to it at a time when Christians, vdiat- 
 ever their practice may be, have come to acknowledge that 
 they ought to form one great organization, whose prayers 
 should ever ascend, whose resources should be" taxed, whose 
 noblest talent, and wisdom, and piety, should be dedicated 
 to the world's recovery to God ? 
 
 As to our missionary facilities abroad; the time was when 
 every door was closed, and every face wore a scowl. Is it 
 no advantage to live at a time when there is no shore on 
 which we may not disembark — no boundary we may not 
 pass, when the world is open? Is it no inducement to 
 advance, when, even in the eyes of its votaries, idolatry is a 
 disenchanted and a hollov/ mockery — when its altars tremble, 
 and its worshippers desert them — when its very weakness 
 invites assault, and insures conquest? Is it no advantage 
 that the missionary array can take up its ground, supported 
 by the Bible Society, on the one hand, by the Tract Society 
 on the other, and with numerous other aids in reserve — that, 
 set free from every other task, it can concentrate all its 
 energies on its own proper work ? Is it nothing that the 
 native mind begins to be leavened with the truth — that a 
 native ministry is advancing to the work — that native 
 churches, here and there, are beginning to be self-supporting 
 and aggressive — that the faith and fervour of whole churches 
 surpass the piety, and shame the lethargy of many a church 
 at home — that, after the lapse of ages, the Christian Church 
 sees the fires of martyrdom again kindled in her distant 
 horizon, and many of lier new-made converts consecrating 
 
200 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 her afresli in a baptism of blood? Oh, is it not rich en- 
 conragemcnt to know, that, at this moment, ten thousand 
 hearts on earth, and ten thousand harps in heaven, are 
 blessing God for the missionary enterprise? 
 
 Dear young friends, you, as the friends of Christian mis- 
 sions, can hardly be said to have anything to hegin. Obstacles 
 once considered mountainous — all but imscalable — are now 
 become plains. A highway is prepared for our God. Paths 
 are worn for your feet — paths which were not seldom 
 watered with tears — stained with blood. Methods once 
 untried, and strange events, are now familiar as laws of 
 nature. Of all the experience of the past you are the heirs. 
 For your inspiration, you have the example of men of whom 
 the world was not worthy — their names for your titles — 
 their noble deeds for your heraldry. You have not so much 
 to sow the seed, as to reap the harvest. " Other men have 
 laboured, and ye have entered into their labours/' 
 
 IV. 
 
 But if the labourers in the missionary field thus inherit 
 from their predecessors a certain amount of facility and 
 advantage, it follows, fourthly, that every generation, and, 
 therefore, our o"wn, has its own proper work to perform. 
 We cannot live on what others have done. AVe inherit it 
 only as we employ it, and only that we may employ it. 
 Tlieir labours did not leave the world as they found it, and 
 we enter into their labours only as we carry them forwards. 
 
 Now, far be it from me to assume that I can jDoint to any 
 particular sphere of missionary effort, or jDrescribe any one 
 kind of labour, and say. Behold the one transcendent duty of 
 the age. But I can attempt to do what is of far greater 
 importance. I can tell you what I believe to be necessary 
 in order that you may ascertain for yourselves the special 
 claims of the day. I can characterize the only mani^er in 
 which those claims should be met, and I can present you 
 with motives so to meet them. 
 
OF CHEISTIAN LABOUE. 201 
 
 Dear young friends, have you that first qualification for 
 Christian usefulness— personal piety? "The field is the 
 world/' and your heart is a part of it — is it reclaimed to 
 God? Your heart is that world itself in epitome. And, 
 apart from the grace of God, there is no scene, however 
 blighted and sterile, on the world's wide surface, or however 
 lu'olific in rank and monstrous growths, which has not its 
 spiritual counterpart in your breast. And, apart from that 
 grace, however fair your character may be in appearance, 
 and whatever part you may take in sowing other lands with 
 the seed of the Gospel — you yourselves resemble a plot 
 covered with weeds, from which every autunmal breeze 
 wafts some winged seeds to infest the region round about. 
 Doubtless, from childhood up, the germs of Scriptural truth 
 have been sown thickly in your hearts. In numerous 
 instances, too, there have been first the blade, and then the 
 ear. Has the full corn in the ear appeared ? The tree has 
 blossomed. Has the blossom set, are the fruits of holiness 
 appearing ? Do you form a part of the garden of the Lord ? 
 By a sense of consistency, neglect not the Gospel you assist 
 to diffuse. Pass not untasted the cup of blessing you 
 forward to others. " Sow to yourselves righteousness, reap 
 in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to 
 seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon 
 you." 
 
 2. To this qualification, add the enlightened and firm con- 
 viction, that you have a peculiar v^Aork, an assigned task to 
 perform — a mission. Do not be satisfied with the empty 
 words. Be iinpressed with the certainty, solemnity, and 
 grandeur of the thing. For this you have been bought. 
 Ye are not your own. Say not in a spirit of ignoble self- 
 depreciation, " What can I do ? " You are doing something 
 in even saying that— doing evil. Whether you will or not, 
 you are always affecting those around you— transmitting 
 good or evil. Through them the impulse spreads and 
 spreads, till myriads, never seen by you, vibrate to your 
 
202 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 touch. Now, you can affect them voluntarily/, and all for 
 good. You can pervade an indefinite circle with the noblest 
 influence. How consecratino; the thouoht ! How ennoblino; 
 the inspiration ! You can stamp your moral impress on 
 the imperishable interests of your race. The state of the 
 dead you cannot affect — they are affecting you. But the 
 living you can. And you have been set do^vn by the hand 
 of God in the midst of the myriads of immortal men now 
 teeming around you, that you may. These are the men with 
 whom you will go to the bar of judgment. This is the gene- 
 ration with which you will be more intimately connected in 
 eternity than with any other. They are within the reach 
 of your zeal, the scoj^e of your prayers. A post is assigned 
 you, and a talent intrusted to you for their express benefit. 
 You can serve the future best by blessing the present. Like 
 David, who " served his own generation by the tvill of God," 
 your own generation demands a service from you; and God 
 wills that you perform it. Like David, you can be men 
 after God's own heart. This is true royalty ; and you are 
 called — you are anointed to it. Wait not for great occa- 
 sions ; the moments are flying, and the world perishing. 
 Aim not at singularity ; combine with the Church. In the 
 associative spirit of the day, join hands with those who are 
 already organized, and labouring to leaven humanity with 
 the Gospel of Christ. Do this ; and live to all posterity. 
 
 3. That you may do it intelligently, take a survey of the 
 work the Church is performing. Acquaint yourselves with 
 its aims, its obstacles, and its tendencies. Eemember that 
 no movements on earth are comparable to them in import- 
 ance. They belong to the education of the race. They 
 involve the princij^le of pi^ogress. Li God's history of the 
 ancient world, Assyria, Babylon, and Egypt — the huge quag- 
 mires of that day — are passed by comparatively unnoticed; 
 while the family of Abraham — the little living stream run- 
 ning through the great morass — is traced minutely in all its 
 windings. And when at length the sum of modern history 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 203 
 
 shall be looked at in the light of heaven, the onward move- 
 ment of the Christian Church shall be seen, like a golden 
 thread, running through the dark woof and tissue of the 
 present, enriching and giving unity and cliaracter to the 
 whole. Master the great subject, then, as if you were pre- 
 paring for examination on it, and it will give meaning and 
 consistency to all you do. 
 
 4. Eor the same reason, acquaint yourselves with the state 
 of that ivorld which demands your sympathy and yonr 
 labours. "Lift up your eyes, and look upon the fields.'' 
 Dear young friends, the reason why the Church does no more 
 for the world is, that it does not lift up its eyes and look on 
 it. Woidd the Almighty affect his proj^het with the sphitual 
 death of the Jewish nation? He called liim to look on a 
 valley full of dry bones. Was the spiiit of Paul, when at 
 Athens, stirred within him? It was when he saiu the city 
 wholly given to idolatry. Did Jesus weep over Jerusalem? 
 It was when He drew near and heJield the city. And if we 
 would be duly impressed with the spiritual destitution of 
 mankind, we must look, and gaze, and dwell on the subject. 
 There — behold them — there are regions of troj)ic heat, and of 
 ever-burning Parsee-fires; and there are bleak wastes of 
 Arctic rigour. There are the sand-columns rushing through 
 the desert stej)pes of Tartary; and there the rugged defiles 
 of Arabia. Africa there, with her Saharas and simooms; 
 and there the dense jungles of India, swarming with the ser- 
 pent and the beast of i:)rey. Next rises to view Chma, stretch- 
 ing away on every side — a weed-covered moral world; and 
 there the islands of the sea, scarred and desolated by worse 
 than volcanic fires. Mourn not for the ground. Wail not 
 for the land. It is of mind we sj)eak. The desolation is of 
 the spirit. The blighted regions are of immortal souls. Oh, 
 the swarming tracts, the depths of continents never fanned 
 by a breath from heaven ; but which, " bearing thorns and 
 briars, are rejected and nigh unto cursing, whose end is to 
 be burned!'' Alas! "they are destroyed from morning to 
 
204 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 evening; tliey perish for ever without any regarding it!" 
 "Who is not tempted to cry out at the sight, " Thou with 
 whom is the power, arrest their increase? Stay the multipli- 
 cation of human life ! Forbid the onward flow of existence ! 
 It were better for these myriad myriads had they never been 
 born ! " But no ; the prayer suited to the occasion is j^re- 
 pared — '-'Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the 
 skies pour do^vn righteousness; let tlie earth open, and let 
 them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness sj)ring 
 forth together/' 
 
 5. But so large-hearted a prayer implies the use of means 
 correspondingly large. And this deep, expansive zeal is the 
 very element wanting, dear young friends, to characterize the 
 aggressive and missionary efforts of the age which you 
 represent. The very fact that you inherit the facilities and 
 advantages derived from the past, justifies the expectation of 
 surpassing effort. If the two talents were expected to gain 
 other two, why have you received five if not to gain other 
 five? It is only in this way, too, that you can benefit your 
 age; not by " building on another man's foundation,'' but by 
 sketching a nobler design ; not by walking abreast, but by 
 leading the van; not by merely working ivith the age, but by 
 inciting it to something better than itself It is only thus 
 that you can effectually bless the future. The influence you 
 now put into circulation will not die with you. It is your 
 legacy to posterity — it will reach to those you never saw, and 
 descend to other times. Yes, traces of your character will 
 appear, ages hence, in the Churches of India and Africa, 
 China and Japan. You are to give Cliristianity to j^osterity ; 
 what kind of a Christianity shall it have? A languid, feeble, 
 spiritless thing — or a system instinct with life? It is only 
 thus, too, that you can honour the Christian name. At 
 present, with here and there an exception, it is cZishonoured. 
 It was meant to be a name for all heroic (pialities, all ascendent 
 forces, and transforming powers. But to name these qualities 
 and powers in connexion with the meagre Christianity of the 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 205 
 
 day, is felt like a latent satire — a grave irony. Passao-es of 
 Scripture, descriptive of early Cliristianity, are felt to be out 
 of place — are in danger of falling into disuse. Our world- 
 liness makes tliem distasteful — converts them into reproaches. 
 " One thing we lack'' — the chiefest of all. Dear young 
 friends, can you not come to our help? Deeply are we 
 humbled at having to ask it ; but will you not save us, under 
 God, from dishonour and defeat? Well might our cheek burn 
 with shame at having to make the confession ; but the examples 
 of other days fail to affect us. Perhaps your example might. 
 We are not lost to shame, Eesolve on a larger scale — seize 
 a nobler spirit — aim at a loftier standard of self-consecration 
 — and we will, on our knees, glorify God in you. We are 
 not lost to liope. Only let us hear that some of you, bap- 
 tized with the Spirit from on high, have simply determined 
 to give yourselves up to the pov\^er of your j^rinciples, and we 
 should feel that the morning of your life, and the morning of 
 a glorious day for the Church, v/ere da-wming together. Even 
 at present, remember, it is from your ranks that our 
 missionaries step fortli — men who offer themselves to be 
 baptized for the dead. Only copy th-eir example — merely 
 resolve that, by God's help, the world shall feel your influ- 
 ence before you die — and you will be effectually serving the 
 Church, and conferring a blessing on all the future. This, 
 this is pre-eminently the v/ork of the day ; and you are called 
 on, as by a voice from heaven, to perform it, 
 
 V. 
 
 Nor do we ask this apart from adequate motives. For, 
 fifthly, the text holds out to all the faithful labourers in the 
 field of Christian activity the strongest inducements and the 
 brightest prospects. " He that reapeth receiveth wages, and 
 gathereth fruit unto life eternal." Here is certainty of 
 reward. It is not so much a promise as a princii^le, a uni- 
 versal law of the Divine kingdom. Dear young friends, we 
 urge you to no enterprise of doubtful result. That you may 
 
206 THE FIELD AND HARVEST 
 
 succeed in your worldly career, is all that the most sanguine 
 of your parents and friends can say, after having taken every 
 human precaution to insure success. And yet such proba- 
 bility is considered ground sufficient to justify the utmost 
 diligence. That they were right, and ouglit to succeed, has, 
 in every age, been ground sufficient to sustain men through 
 a martyrdom of life and of death. How, then, should it 
 inflame your zeal to know that you are labouring in a field 
 in which you must succeed ! In scattering the seeds of life, 
 you are sowing your own characters. You are uniting your 
 own interests witli those of the great government of God. 
 You are moving in a line with His purposes. Every hallowed 
 aim takes an angel shape ; every lofty aspiration enters a 
 bright imperishable form. Allied to any other scheme of 
 efl'ort, you can only hope that yoii may be right; identified 
 with this, you may know it. There is nothing good which it 
 does not bless ; nothing great which does not bless it, and 
 join it. The field itself belongs to Christ. He has purchased 
 it. His blood is on it — His blood — the true seed of the 
 Church, His cross has stood in it. His heart is bound up 
 with it. What, then, though the Church should grow weary 
 in well-doing, or worldly enough to doubt the coming of the 
 great harvest ? Yfliat though in its unbelief it should say, 
 " If the Lord will open windows in heaven, might this thing 
 be ! '' If His peoj)le will not do the work, He will open win- 
 dows in heaven. " I will hear,'' saith the Lord — " I will hear 
 the heavens, and they shall hear the earth, and the eartli shall 
 hear the corn and the wine and the oil, and they shall hear 
 Jezreel.'' All nature shall be set in motion — every sj^ring of 
 Providence shall be touched — new forces shall start into 
 activity. For it is " GocVs husbandry."' He, therefore, " that 
 ploweth should plow in hope ; and he that thresheth in \\o\)Q, 
 should be partaker of his hope." Even " he that goeth forth 
 and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come 
 again, bringing his sheaves with him ; for they that sow in 
 tears shall reap in joy." Already, in places, the handful of 
 
OF CHKISTIAN LABOUE. 207 
 
 corn in the earth shakes like Lebanon, Ah^eady we walk in 
 a world whose renovation is begun — is in progress. The 
 first-fruits are gathered. To the eye of faith, the valleys of 
 the wide world stand thick with corn. To the ear of faith, 
 the harvest-home is already rehearsed. To the proi)hetic 
 view of faith, the Spirit has been poured down from on high, 
 and the wilderness has become a fruitful field, and the fruit- 
 ful field is counted for a forest ; and in that newEden, Faith 
 walks with a recovered world, admitted to eat of the tree of 
 ILfe. 
 
 2. For remark, next, the transcendent excellence of the 
 reward — "He gathereth fruit unto life eternal.'' He has 
 operated on mind — cultivated spirit — sown immortal seed in 
 immortal soil ; and he goes to reap a harvest which will be 
 ever growing under his sickle — to pluck fruit over which 
 time and change have no dominion, and which multiplies 
 faster than he can gather it. Dear young friends, have you 
 ambition? and, at thought of this, do you not feel fired? 
 Oh, how ennobling the prospect ! — fruit unto life eternal ! 
 Think of men's loftiest ivorldly aims. What must it be to 
 be not merely ennobled by the hand of royalty, but to be able 
 to confer nobility and rank ? Be anointed to a higher ofiice. 
 Be invested with a nobler prerogative. Away with mere 
 shadows and surfaces. Here are essences, sublime, imperish- 
 able, and eternal. Aid us in saving immortal men, and in 
 leading them to crowns of unfading light. We might tell 
 you of vast designs of kingly conquest, designs entailed from 
 age to age, and how even vicious men, by being identified 
 with such great designs, have been rescued for a time from 
 their degradation, and have caught a kind of grandeur of 
 character from their position. Here the conquest of a world 
 is entailed, and you are called on to share the greatness of 
 the task. Here is au object which has made a Saviour, which 
 has developed new features in the character even of the 
 Blessed God ; and you are actually called to work with Him, 
 that with Him you may reap the rich result. We might 
 
208 THE FIELD AND HAEVEST 
 
 remind you of that eastern legend, tliat every time a great 
 man dies, another is somewhere instantly born — born to carry 
 on his works, and to rej^roduce his character. Here the 
 leojend becomes a sublime fact. When Christ died, the 
 Christian Church was born — born to carry on His work, 
 and to represent His character. My young friends, you are 
 His successors ; are you rightly alive to your dignity? You 
 are the representatives of Christ ; have you awoke up to your 
 responsibility? You are to j)rosecute His world-wide ever- 
 lasting designs ; do you sufficiently think of the results ? 
 You are to gather fruit unto life eternal. The sun in its 
 splendour is but an emblem of the glory which awaits the 
 faithful servant of Christ ; for when that sun itself shall be 
 extinct, '•' they that have turned many to righteousness shall 
 shine forth as the sun for ever and ever. 
 
 3. And then, too, the reward of each is to be enjoyed in 
 happy fellowship with all, and is to be thus indefinitely 
 enhanced — " He that soweth and he that reapeth shall rejoice 
 together.'" See, dear young friends, by identifying yourselves 
 witli the great Christian cause, you enter into fellowshij) with 
 all the excellence and greatness the world has ever knovm. 
 You foil into a train in which the prophets and ajDOstles, the 
 martyrs and confessors, the reformers and missionaries, the 
 worthies and saints of all ages, have formed a part; a pro- 
 cession of which the front ranks have long been mingling 
 with the radiance of the ineffable glory^a train which still 
 reaches from earth to heaven. You are encomj)assed by a 
 great cloud of witnesses. You pass to your work through 
 their bending ranks. A part of their joy consists in seeing 
 you prosecuting their v/ork, and emulating their example. 
 Still more will that joy be enhanced when you go to reap 
 with them the united result. But it will not be consum- 
 mated till you, and they, and the faithful of every age, shall 
 meet at last to reap tlie harvest of a reclaimed, and a fruit- 
 laden, happy world. Oh ! how shall we picture the joy of 
 sx)irits, rescued themselves from endless death, meeting alike 
 
OF CHRISTIAN LABOUR. 209 
 
 tlie embrace of those who were the means of saving them, 
 and of those who were afterwards saved by them? How 
 profound the satisfaction of surveying the great fiekl of 
 Christian toil, when the last w^orkman shall have left it — 
 when the entire labour shall be over — when nothing shall 
 remain but the meeting of the labourers, the congratulations, 
 the wages, the enjoyment of the fruits, the divine occupa- 
 tion of tracing how each separate effort fell in with and 
 promoted the grand general result ! How divine the delight 
 of finding themselves all in the presence of the Lord of tlie 
 harvest — entering into the joy of their Lord — sharing it 
 with Him — rejoicing with Him in the welfare and harmony 
 of all spiritual being, in the attainment of which He allowed 
 them the honour to participate. 
 
 On that consummation His eye is at this moment fixed; 
 and He has partially unveiled the sight that you may gaze at 
 it also. Would that I could address you in a manner worthy 
 of the theme, or inspire you with a sense of the greatness of 
 the work to which He is calling you ! But I make not the 
 attempt. I stoo^D not to warn you against those frivolities 
 of fashion and pleasure by v/hich numbers of your own age 
 — the children of folly — are absorbed. Such trifles be far 
 from yoLi! You have already begun to walk over them — to 
 trample them in the dust — in your way to nobler aims. Eut 
 solemnly v/ould I warn you alike against being gradually 
 drawn into an all-engrossing pm-suit of gain — against taking 
 up with any of the sjDurious forms of philanthroj^y with 
 which tliis age abounds, to the neglect of God's great specific 
 for man's disease — and against adopting tins in a languid, 
 half-hearted manner. Now, indeed, is the strife and the 
 strain. Many of you have heard of the torch-race, in which 
 the Grecian youth, laboriously trained for it, agonized as 
 they panted, and ran, and passed on the lamp from hand to 
 hand. In the race of generations on the great field of tune, 
 your turn has come to seize the light of life, and to carry it 
 forward into the darkness. Are you j^anting to start? Now 
 
 o 
 
210 THE FIELD AND HAEVEST OF CHEISTIAN LABOUR. 
 
 for the fleet of foot and the resolute of will. It is no common 
 time. You come on the field of conflict at the very crisis of 
 the fight. Ai-e you ready for the charge? Under God, you 
 are our hope. We ask not for mere sudden impulses — the 
 effect of passing appeals. Could we but know that you 
 retired to-night into solitude to reflect, to meditate, to lay 
 the subject in silence on yom^ naked heart, to hold unspeak- 
 able converse with God respecting it, we should thank God, 
 and take courage. We ask not for mere verbal professions. 
 You owe your salvation not to words, but to deeds — and 
 deeds should beget deeds, living, heroic, godlike deeds. We 
 ask you not to speah great things, but to live them. Upon 
 your heads the relations, influences, and responsibilities of 
 all the past meet and rest. Upon you "the ends of the 
 world are come." All your powers are due. Your very 
 position consecrates you to the loftiest service. " And who, 
 then, is willing to consecrate his service this day unto the 
 Lord?'' We ask you not to attempt the impossible, or even 
 the extravagant. But, remembering that we speak in the 
 name of Him who himself " travailed in soul,'' we do ask for 
 your earnest resolve and your personal dedication; remem- 
 bering that we plead within sight of a world perishing for 
 lack of that which you can send them, we do ask you to 
 work, to plan, to labour for their rescue; and remembering 
 that we address you as in the midst of the great field of 
 Christian labour, and in the presence of many of the 
 labourers, we do ask you for the prayer that wrestles, and 
 the liberality that knows how to make sacrifices, and the 
 piety that plans and purposes for the future, and the holy 
 determination that, in the strength of God, you will not only 
 enter into their labours, but v/ill even aim to surpass them. 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TIIVE IMESSIAIf. 211 
 
 SEEMON IX. 
 
 THE SIGNS OF THE TKUE MESSIAH. 
 
 Luke vii. 19-23 — "AndJolin calling unto him two of his disciples sent 
 them to Jesus, saying, Art thou he that shoukl come, or look we for 
 another? "When the men were come to him, they said, John Baptist 
 hath sent us unto thee, saying, Art thou he that should come, or look 
 we for another? And in the same hour he cured many of their infir- 
 mities and plagues, and of evil spirits; and unto many that were hlind 
 he gave sight. Then Jesus ansv.ering- said imto them, Go your way, 
 and tell John what things ye have seen and heard ; how that the blind 
 see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, tlie deaf hear, the dead are 
 raised, to the poor the Gospel is preached. And blessed is he wliosoever 
 sliall not be oflended in me." 
 
 The world knows nothing of its greatest men, says the poet. 
 Some, says Scrii^ture, have entertained angels unawares. 
 But more wonderful still, the Son of God himself was in the 
 world, and the world knew Him not. Is it strange, then, 
 that any one who did recognize the j^resence of such great- 
 ness should feel strong imj^atience to have it recognized by 
 others; especially, too, if he expected the recognition would 
 be followed by an outburst of blessings, and still more if he 
 felt himself responsible for heralding that greatness, and for 
 making it universally known? 
 
 Now, such appears to have been the state of mind which 
 originated this message of John to Jesus. By some, it is 
 supposed to have been expressive of rising doubts in the 
 mind of John respecting our Lord's Messiahship. Others, 
 resenting this view as an impeachment of the Baptist's faith, 
 have reo-arded the messao'e as intended to remove the doubts 
 of John's discij^les. The true solution aj^pears to be, that 
 
212 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 John burned with a dcsh^e to have the Messiahship of Jesus 
 forthwith recognized, and sent this message in the hope of 
 drawing from Him a distinct and public avowal of His 
 official character. That no shadow of a doubt crossed his 
 own mind respecting the validity of our Lord's claims 
 appears from this, that he was prepared to take the decisive 
 answer to the question from the lips of Christ himself; and, 
 also, that the immediate occasion of John's asking it was 
 the report which had reached him in the prison of Mach?erus 
 of our Lord's mighty works — an occasion surely for removing 
 doubts rather than for creating them. His message, then, 
 originated in impatience, and was only another illustration of 
 the grand impetuosity of a soul chafing and burning to reach 
 its goal. Filled with that eager enthusiasm which sees no 
 difficulties in the attainment of its object, he would have had 
 the new kingdom of God set up at once. Probably, too, he 
 felt as if his own office of herald would be incomplete until 
 the Jews had been brought to recognize in Christ the pro- 
 mised Messiah. 
 
 All this shewed, however, that John did not perfectly 
 apprehend the spiritual nature of the new dispensation 
 • — that, like the apostles of that time, he was expecting 
 that the kingdom of God would come with observation — 
 come from without, instead of being a slow, quiet, sj^iritual 
 growth from within — that there was too much of the Old 
 Testament theocracy in his views — and hence our Lord, 
 while pronouncing him the greatest in preparing the way 
 for the new kingdom, yet declared that the least among the 
 truly enlightened and spiritual subjects of that kingdom is 
 greater than he. 
 
 1. Were it my object to point out all the lessons to bo 
 learned from this paragraph, I might begin by adverting to 
 the remarkable manner iu which the idea of the coming of 
 Christ had taken possession of the heart of the world. From 
 the hour when the first j^romise had been dropj^ed, like a seed 
 from the tree of b"fe, into the human mind, to the day when 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSIAH. 213 
 
 John, pointing to liim, said, "Beholdtlie Lamb of God,-' the pro- 
 spect of His advent had never ceased to be the sustaining and 
 insj^iring hope of the world. Eightly or wrongly, they all 
 conceived of Him as of a being whose coming would be the 
 great birth of time. Consciously or unconsciously, their 
 thoughts went forth into the distant future to meet Him. 
 Often did the eye of the Israelite sweep the horizon to descry, 
 if possible, some sign of His approach, some streak of His 
 rising light. The consummation of all the great designs and 
 promises of God was referred to the time of His coming. 
 His familiar designation came to be, " the Comer," " He 
 that is to come,'' as if the coming of everything else — the 
 coming of futurity itself — depended on His coming. 
 
 2. We are here reminded, too, of the evidences ajDj^rojDriate 
 to signalize His arrival, and to certify His identity when He 
 had come. Many of these evidences he recapitulates in the 
 text, as if he had said, " To me gave all the prophets witness; 
 from the shadowy outline sketched of me in the first promise, 
 the hand of j)rophecy has never ceased adding feature after 
 feature, till now the portraiture is complete; compare my 
 claims to be the original, and judge for yourselves of the 
 likeness." Like the v/hite stone, the tessera liospitalis of the 
 ancients, of which the separate parts were held by mutual 
 friends, constituting for each a safeguard from imposture and 
 a title to hospitality, the Jews held in their hand parts of a 
 tliousand prophetic tesserce, of which our Lord, when he 
 came and claimed to be the world's guest, presented all the 
 corresponding parts, so numerically exact, so proportionally 
 complete, that he could confidently refer the messengers of 
 John to the miraculous adjustment. 
 
 3. We are here reminded, too, of the world's slowness in 
 recoo;nizino: His claims, and of the reasons of that slo-\^Tiess. 
 The Christ of their imaginations was a very different being 
 from the Christ of prophecy and of reality. And hence the 
 evidences by which they expected Him to enforce His claims 
 answered to the same false ideal. " The Jews required a 
 
214} THE sig:n"S of the true ]\IESSIAH. 
 
 sign'' — a grand outburst of national glory, having Him for 
 its centre — a summoning of the world to go forth and meet 
 Him — noisy demonstrations and judicial displays of power — 
 all flattering their own self-idolatry by bringing the nations 
 in homage to His feet. " The Greeks sought after wisdom" 
 — sublime speculations on the nature of God — solutions of 
 the mysteries of existence — new theories of the universe. 
 And the Eoman — the wondering scorn with which he put 
 the question, "Art thoun king, then?'' shewed what evidence 
 he looked for — an unfurled banner and a conquering legion. 
 But let us not lavish all our condemnation on their misap- 
 prehension and non-reception of Christ. The ground of it 
 lay deeper than national peculiarity and the character of the 
 times. The cause must be sought for in human nature, and 
 belongs to all time. It is the ever-changing manifestation 
 of an unchanging cause — the struggle of the material against 
 the spiritual — of man's persisting self-idolatry against imqua- 
 lified submission to the will of God. How j)rone are we still 
 to prescribe modes to His Divine o^Dcrations ! How slow to 
 recognize His presence beyond the denominational lines which 
 we may have dra^vn ! How apt to listen for Him in the 
 earthquake and tempest, the wind and the fire, rallier than 
 in the still small voice — to look for Him in the ministrations 
 of pomp, authority, and title, rather than in those of poverty, 
 simplicity, and abasement! How liable to form an ideal 
 Christ, while of the true Christ it may still be said to many 
 a congregation, " There standeth one among you whom ye 
 know not!" 
 
 4. But notwithstanding the world's slowness to recognize 
 the claims of Christ, we are here reminded that He allows 
 them to be enforced by evidence alone, and is j^repared to 
 await the result. His conduct on this occasion contained a 
 tacit rebuke of John's impatience. It was as if He had said, 
 " My kingdom is spiritual, and the emplojmient of any but 
 spiritual and congenial means would obstruct its consumma- 
 tion. My kingdom is already in actual j^rogress ; and, slow 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 215 
 
 though that progress be, invisible to the gross eye of sense, 
 I see the leaven already working beneath the surface — the 
 grain of mustard-seed already germinating. The result is 
 certain, however distant. I have all time in which to -work. 
 Eashness, and the employment of worldly means, would only 
 retard the end which it was meant to hasten.'' Brethren, 
 that end has been delayed far less by the direct hostilities of 
 His avowed enemies, than by the Vv'orldly means employed by 
 His professed friends. Even evidence itself — moral evidence 
 — He employs only in weight and measure. He does not 
 render it irresistible. Man, in his rashness and folly, would 
 call for the dead to appear — for the flames of the pit to flash 
 forth and glare — for evidence compelling and overwhelming 
 — or else for an array of pains and penalties. But He treats 
 mind as mind — carries its strongholds by conviction alone. 
 
 5. Observe, again, that our Lord not only employs evidence, 
 in contradistinction from worldly disj^lay and physical force, 
 but He here promotes 7no7xd evidence before miraculous. 
 Eeserving the strongest proof of His Messiahship for the last, 
 He declares, " To the poor the Gospel is preached.'' After 
 announcing His various miraculous triumphs over man's 
 physical ills, he winds up His claims with this crowning 
 demonstration — " To the poor the Gospel is preached." 
 Brethren, from the moment the Gosj^el began to be preached 
 to the poor, from that moment a species of evidence for 
 Christianity entirely new to the world began to come into 
 existence. Never, indeed, mil the more ancient kind of 
 evidence — the mu-aculous — lose its proper value. In distri- 
 buting the different kinds of evidence, the miraculous has its 
 appointed place, and notliing can displace it. But the moral 
 transcends the physical — appeals to a higher part of our 
 nature, and aims at nobler results. And to preach the 
 Gospel to the poor — familiar as the idea may have become to 
 us — so famihar that we can hardly feel its argumentative 
 force — was an entirely new thing in the earth. There was 
 no precedent for it — no prepossession in its favour. The poor 
 
216 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 were sui^posed to jDOssess no riglits. The voice of kindness 
 was new to tliem. If the Greek looked down on the bar- 
 barian, the freeman despised the shxve — the i^hilosojDher, the 
 simple — the wealthy, nay, all united in despising the poor. 
 " This people, which knoAveth not the law," said the proud 
 Pharisee, "are cursed;'' this ignorant and contemptible class 
 is forsaken of God, and doomed to destruction. Eeligion 
 itself had become an aristocratic affair. But here we behold 
 Him who had been anointed to ^^reach the Gosjoel to the 
 poor opening His commission — taking the j^oor to His heart 
 — inaugurating the people to the privileges of His kingdom 
 — interweaving their highest interests with the very witness- 
 mark of Christianity. Here first we see Him avowedly 
 adopting the jDoor as His clients ; raising an insurrection — ■ 
 the insurrection of the heart and the reason — against all class 
 oppression ; vindicating the sacredness of individual and 
 universal man as man. 
 
 But it is to the mode — the form of our Lord's rej^ly — that 
 I would now call your attention. 
 
 First, to the fact that our Lord's teaching consisted, to a 
 remarkable degree, of deeds. Such was here the Godlike 
 manner of His reply to the question, "Art thou he th^t 
 should come?" He answered not in words — entered into no 
 verbal explanation — no argumentative defence of His claims. 
 Actions speak louder than words. And " in that same hour," 
 it is said, He j^erformed a series of stupendous miracles, and 
 left His deeds to speak for themselves. 
 
 And might not tliis have been exjiected? The vohtions 
 of an infinite mind are deeds. As the Being " by whom all 
 things were made," it had ever been His ordinary method of 
 affirming the eternal power and Godhead "by the things 
 which are seen." Properly understood, every material 2:>article 
 is impressed with His seal — stamped with Plis image and 
 superscription. Every atom is a letter, and every work a 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE ISIESSIAII. 217 
 
 word. Every element lectures on His attributes, and each 
 globe is a messenger ever moving in His service. The stars 
 come forth nightly on their solemn embassy to proclaim the 
 glory of God. And daily the earth affirms, with voices 
 innumerable, the power, and wisdom, and goodness of God. 
 
 And now He who had "made the worlds'' — made them as 
 a part of the manifestation of God — had visibly appeared 
 with a view to a yet further manifestation. It was not to be 
 expected, therefore, that the manifestation would be verbal 
 merely, or even chiefly. For how can the imperfect medium 
 of speech convey an adequate idea of the infinite and invisible 
 God? It fails to do justice even to the greatest and best of 
 our own conceptions. It only hints them — helps us to conjec- 
 ture them — just puts us in the way of guessing each other's 
 meaning, and of understanding each other by sympathy. 
 Accordingly, He came to he the manifestation of God, rather 
 than to speak it. " He that hath seen me (said He) hath seen 
 the Father also." In Him " God was manifest in the flesh.'' 
 Not, indeed, that we would, even in appearance, disparage 
 our Lord's oral teaching — " Never man spake like this man." 
 We would not seem to think lightly even of its quantity or 
 amount. Doubtless it was in that j^i'oj^ortion which His 
 wise and ^^erfect purposes required. 
 
 1. But, first, even His teaching — His oral instruction — 
 consisted of tilings rather than of words. Even " the words 
 that I speak unto you (said He), they are spirit and they are 
 life." They fell into a stagnant, putrefying ocean, to stimu- 
 late and put the whole into activity. They contained a 
 fulness of meaning which His contemporaries could only 
 begin to comprehend; the human mind is still only growing 
 up to them. Like living seeds, they only required to be 
 shone upon from on high in order to become trees of life for 
 the healing of the nations. 
 
 2. And hence even His verbal teaching related especially 
 to Himself. What portion of it was not either a vindication 
 of acts which He had already performed, or intimations of 
 
218 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 purposes wliicli He was about to accomiDlisli ? What was 
 His sermon on the mount, and, indeed, the burden of all His 
 parables, but a foreshadowing of the kingdom He was about 
 to set u]), of its impediments and its growth, its spirituality 
 and the character of its accepted subjects? All that was 
 expository, hortatory, and of the nature of promise, in His 
 teachino' — what was it but an illustration of the blessins-s 
 He had come to procure, or an invitation to partake of them? 
 As He had been the great subject of proj^hecy prior to His 
 advent; so, when He had come, ]\Ioses and Elias could not 
 descend to commune with Him on the Blount of Transfigura- 
 tion, without making the decease which He should accomj^lish 
 at Jerusalem the burden of their discourse. He was the 
 subject of His own teaching. " Never man spake like this 
 man'' in this peculiar respect — that He was the text of His 
 own preaching. His words were a running commentary on 
 His deeds. 
 
 And this distinctive and important fact supplies an adequate 
 reply to two objections. The first, more frequently felt than 
 expressed, relates to the greater fulness of evangelical doctrine 
 in the epistles than in the gospels, and implies that, if it be 
 not superabundant in the one, it seems strangely deficient in 
 the other. But this objection overlooks the fact we are 
 expomiding, that Christ came not so much to preach the 
 Gospel as to procure it — to preach it by procuring it — to 
 perform the deeds which constitute the Gospel; and that not 
 until He had ascended to be invested with all power, and 
 had poured out the Spirit from on high, had He completed 
 the cycle of His saving works. 
 
 The other objection — urged from the time of Celsus do^\m- 
 wards — relates to the comparatively trivial fact, that parallels 
 to two or three of our Lord's moral sayings are to be found 
 in the more ancient writings of Plato, Isocrates, and others; 
 and hence it is absurdly inferred that the Gospel had been 
 anticipated — that Christianity, forsooth, is not original. To 
 which it might be repKed, that, admitting the supposed resem- 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 219 
 
 blances to be real, and not fanciful, the wonder is that they are 
 so extremely few — that the two or three maxims and sayings 
 referred to are but the distant reverberations of Sinai, echoes 
 of the ancient moral law — and that Christianity is more than 
 a few maxims of morality. We point for Christianity (like our 
 Lord himself) to His works — works in which He performed 
 that which all other systems had only promised — in which 
 He embodied and made actual that which others had only 
 imagined as jDossible and admired as desh-able — works in 
 which He once for all met man's deepest wants and his 
 highest aspirations. The necessities of the world were beyond 
 the reach of mere teaching. It was a condition of guilt, 
 depravity, remediless ruin. It required not a system, but 
 deliverance; not a mere method of deliverance, but a deliverer, 
 a personal redeemer — a being who, taking a survey of man's 
 spiritual wants, can meet them all, can take humanity into 
 his embrace, and invite it to cast itself on his beating heart 
 for repose — one whose word^ will be deeds, the deeds of a 
 being mighty to save. 
 
 XL 
 
 This prepares us to find, secondly, that, to a great degree, 
 as the text implies. His works were wonders. It is a frequent 
 ascription given to God in the Old Testament, that " He only 
 doeth wondrous things.'' "Blessed be the Lord God, the 
 God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous things." To achieve 
 wonders is His prerogative alone. Man attempts them in 
 vain. Man, in his self-idolatry, may ascribe wonders to ]iis 
 fellow-man. But, in his highest discoveries, he only sees 
 what God has done ; and, in his greatest achievements, only 
 avails himself of what God had made ready to his hand. 
 And not only is God the only wonder-worker, strictly speak- 
 ing He works nothing but wonders. The atom, as an atom, 
 is not less wonderful than a world. Both owe their origin 
 to miracle, and are alike covered with imprints of the Divine 
 signature. Neither do what we call " the laws of nature'' 
 
220 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 explain the miracle or lessen the wonder. Eatlier, tliey double 
 the wonder every moment they continue ; for they disclose 
 the jDresence of the Creator, and proclaim that He is working 
 still. Every star that rushes through immensity is a miracle 
 and a messenger from God, proclaiming, " There is a God of 
 boundless power, and the hand of that God is upon me.'' 
 Each of them, obediently followed, is a star of Bethlehem, a 
 guide into the Divine presence. And all of them unite — 
 yes, this is the real music of the spheres — the chorus of crea- 
 tion — all of them unite in proclaiming His eternal power 
 and Godhead. 
 
 Was it strange, therefore, that when He came of whom it 
 was predicted " His name shall be wonderful His works 
 should partake of the nature of signs and wonders ? There 
 was a sense in which He could not do anytlnng ordinary, 
 anything which was not wonderful. The constitution of His 
 nature made this impossible. In Him, God and man had 
 not only approached, they had coalesced, and become one. 
 This very act had its root in this surj^assing wonder. The 
 humblest deed He performed contained in it a portion of this 
 miracle. And the more humble and lowly the act, the greater 
 the wonder of condescension in which it was clothed. 
 
 But, beyond this, a large proportion of His acts, viewed in 
 themselves, were truly supernatural. " All things at first had 
 been made by Him, and without Him was not anything made 
 that was made \' and now that He had descended, and stood 
 in the midst of the things which He had made, it was not 
 strange that He should display His power over them. He 
 had originally given them the laws they were obeying ; ^vhat 
 wonder that He should prove that He had given them, by 
 shewing that He could have given them others — that the slow 
 process of months by which the grape transmutes the moisture 
 of the atmosphere into its own nobler juices cort^c? be gathered 
 up into the act of a single moment, as when He turned the 
 water into wine — that all those intervening steps by which 
 He yearly multipli ■ a single grain of corn a hundredfold 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 221 
 
 could be overleaped, and the result attained at once, as wlien 
 He multiiDlied tlie loaves? He had originally called these 
 laws into being ; what wonder that they should recognize 
 the voice to whose bidding they owed their existence — that 
 the tempestuous sea should have quieted itself at the hush of 
 His voice like a little child — that the yielding wave should 
 have offered itself to support His footsteps ? He had come 
 to be recognized by the inquiring and believing, to leave 
 behind Him the footprints of a God; Avhat wonder that every 
 element of nature should have pressed forward in His service 
 — that every object should have listened to receive His com- 
 mand ? what wonder that, in resentment of man's slowness 
 to recognize Him, the very stones were ready to cry out? 
 He had come, like the lord of His own j^arable, returning 
 from a far country, to see what his servants were doing, 
 and He found an all-perverting j^ower at work, a wide scene 
 of discord, wretchedness, and ruin ; what wonder that at His 
 coming everything should essay to fall into its proper place, and 
 discharge its j^roper office — that disease should retire at His 
 approach — that at His bidding the blinded eye, the deafened 
 ear, the lame and paralytic limb, should regain their proper 
 fmictions — that even the prostrate dead, never meant to die 
 but for sin, should hear the voice of the Son of God, and 
 return to life ? He was the great power of God — the great 
 central and pervading power of benevolence ; what wonder 
 that " the whole multitude sought to touch Him, for there 
 went virtue out of Him, and healed them all?" what wonder 
 that He moved about encompassed by an atmosj^here of 
 goodness — that, like the angel standing in the midst of the 
 sun, a Godlil{:e influence rayed and streamed from Him on 
 aU around ? Miracle, so far from being strange to Him, was 
 the ordinary mode of His agency. Strange as it was to man, 
 it was His familiar mode of operation ; and there is abmidant 
 ground to conclude, that had He not been restrained by an 
 unbelief that would have neutralized the design of miracle — 
 had He only found Himself moving in an element of faith, in 
 
222 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSLVH. 
 
 tliat congenial element His joower would have cast off all 
 restraint, and His every act have been a miracle. He had 
 come to bless and to save ; what wonder, then, that His 
 ]30wer was only the servant of His grace — that He should 
 preach the Gospel to the poor ; that He should call for man 
 — the mere, the naked man — and shew that, clothe him in 
 purple, he is not aggrandized — that, cover him with rags, he 
 is not degraded — that man has a nature and a destiny which 
 ally him to the skies ; and that He, the Son of God, with a 
 plentitude of grace, before which the splendour of all mere 
 mmicles of power fade away, had come to restore to man his 
 lost inheritance, and to restore man to it ? 
 
 IH: 
 
 And this brings us, thirdly, to the fact that His wonders 
 were mercies. His words might have been works, and His 
 works wonders, and all these wonders might have been judg- 
 ments. But " God sent not his Son into the world to con- 
 demn the world, but that the world through him might be 
 saved.'' And therefore all His acts of power are found to be 
 in harmony with His design. 
 
 All His miracles were miracles of mercy. They did no 
 violence to nature — introduced no disharmony among her 
 laws. On the contrary, in giving sight to the blind. He was 
 but recalling the eye to its proper function ; in casting out 
 tlie demon. He was but dethroning a usurper, and restoring 
 man to himself ; in raisins; the dead, He was but reminding 
 us that death is only an accident of humanity — that man was 
 meant to live. The discord was here already — He was but 
 reducing the chaos to order — bringing in a higher harmony — 
 giving to earth the order and happiness of heaven. ^^Tiien did 
 He ever lift up His hand but to warn and to bless — or open 
 His lips but to remonstrate, enlighten, or to console — or 
 "go about'' but to do good? What use did He ever make 
 of His power but as a trust to be administered for man*s 
 advantaire ? 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 223 
 
 And tills reminds us that, besides the happiness actually 
 conveyed by His healing acts of power, they had a higher 
 symbolical value. They pointed to the redeeming design 
 of His advent. To many of them, He himself gave this 
 interpretation. Even the barren fig-tree was denounced 
 symbolically, because He willed not the death of a sinner. 
 Eemarkably did His miracles contrast in this benignant 
 respect with those of Moses. Eemarkable as a coinci- 
 dence — if as nothing more — is the fact, that while the 
 first judicial miracle of Moses converted water into blood, 
 the first miracle of Christ converted water into wine; 
 and that, too, on an occasion v^hich shewed His sympathy 
 with human happiness — His power of raising the low, and 
 ennobling the common — of turning the elements of earth into 
 the spiritual uses of heaven. Every blind eye He opened 
 denoted that He had come to be the light of the world. 
 Every demon He dispossessed was only another form of the 
 prediction, "Now shall the prince of this world be cast out" — 
 humanity as a whole shall be rescued. Every dead body He 
 raised w^as a pledge of the coming of a nobler life — a life 
 exempt from death. Every act of power was His symbolical 
 Godlike mode of preaching the Gospel — a new proclamation 
 of the spiritual blessings He had come to procure and to impart. 
 But, as I have already intimated, the greatest wonder of 
 which we have yet spoken was that of the Incarnation. In 
 the i:>resence of this, all His mere acts of power lose their 
 splendour, and disappear. The ancient tabernacle only fore- 
 sliadowed this. The temple, with the indwelling Shekinah, 
 symbolically predicted it. Every instance of comnnmion be- 
 t\veen God and man — even the union of soul and body in the 
 creation of man — was only a prefiguration of this infinitely 
 more mysterious union of the Divine and human in the 
 person of Christ. That the Omnipresent should thus have 
 become localized, and the Eternal subject Himself to the 
 successiveness of time ; that the Invisible should make Him- 
 self apparent, the Infinite expend itself on the finite, and 
 
224 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 tlie Lawgiver be seen in a station of obedience ; tliat tlie 
 Creator should give Himself to the creature, assuming the 
 very nature of the creature into union with His own; that 
 God slioukl yet be man, bringing Himself under all the con- 
 ditions of a man — this was itself a miracle, from which every 
 other wonder seems to follow naturally and of course — this 
 was a sacrifice to which only one greater could be added. 
 
 And you know the nature of that one — ''Ye know the 
 grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.'' Our condition required 
 that He should die ; and with all the fulness of the Godhead 
 bodily, He advanced to the place of sacrifice. Our redemp- 
 tion demanded that the holy and outraged lav/ should receive 
 no less a compensation than that of His obedience unto death ; 
 and He humbled, and humbled, and humbled Himself till 
 He had become obedient unto death, even the death of the 
 cross. Beyond this He could not go — even He could not go. 
 Yes, when He could say no more, He bade the cross begin 
 to speak. When His lips had uttered their testimony, He 
 opened His lieart, and spake in blood. When His life 
 had ended its proclamation of mercy, He summed up and 
 exceeded all in the utterance of His death. Tell me, if you 
 will, that it is the self-same voice which speaks sublimely in 
 creation. I admit and admire it ; but, oh ! how distant there 
 — how close and thrilling here 1 True ; I hear Him, too, in 
 the events of providence ; but hoAV vague and often how 
 a^vful there — how tender, appealing, and subduing here ! I 
 hear Him in His miracles, graciously inquiring, "Why 
 weepest thou ? What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee ? 
 Wilt thou be made whole?" But here I find Him weeping 
 with me — I see Him dying for me — I hear Him saying, " It 
 is finished," and find that it is my redemption which is com- 
 pleted. Hide from me if you will every other object — throw 
 a veil if you will over every other act which even He jDcr- 
 formed — silence if you will every other utterance which 
 comes from the speaking wonders of His life — but let me 
 see His cross, let me never cease to hear the assurance con- 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 225 
 
 stantly issuing tlience; for it tells me at once that He is 
 infinite love, and my tender, compassionate, all-sufficient 
 Saviour. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And this reminds us, fourthly, that His mercies, like the 
 acts by which He replied to John's inquiry, are answers to 
 human questionings and necessities. This is only another 
 mode of saying that the blessings of His redemption are pre- 
 cisely adapted to our exigencies. His works might have 
 been wonders, and His wonders mercies — but there mio-ht 
 have been a want of suitableness between our wants and His 
 mode of meeting them. The text, however, reminds us that 
 they are as exactly suited to our necessities as the practical 
 reply which He gave to the question of John's disciples — 
 that, in effect, they are rej)lies to our instinctive inquiries and 
 conscious necessities. 
 
 This view, indeed, of the correspondence which* exists 
 between His doings and our inquiries, is one which admits 
 of universal application. He has forelaid the entire scheme 
 of nature and providence with a view to it. No legitimate 
 question on any natural subject can ever arise in our minds 
 which He, the IMaker of the mind, has not foreseen, and to 
 which He has not inserted the answer in the things which He 
 hath made. And ten thousand thousand answers are silently 
 awaiting the future questions which shall call them forth 
 The several acts of creation itself may have been practical 
 replies to the questions of other orders of being. Possibly 
 at this moment the Creator may be elsewhere exhibiting 
 similar demonstrations of His perfections in reply to similar 
 inquiries. In the amplitudes of space, hosts of intelligent 
 beings may at this moment be collected around the chaos of 
 a world or a system, wondering whether it will ever be 
 restored, or whether all creative acts are at an end. And 
 "in that same hour," whila they are thus doubting and 
 inquiring, they may be made awfully conscious of the creative 
 
 P 
 
226 THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSIAH. 
 
 presence among tliem — and the fiat may go fortli, " Let there 
 be light," and tlie light of a Divine demonstration may kindle 
 around them. 
 
 In harmony with the same correspondence, the revelations 
 of the Old Testament are frequently represented as re2:)lies to 
 human inquiries. Besides imparting His mind to man spon- 
 taneously, God was graciously pleased tq allow Himself, 
 under certain conditions, to be questioned or inquired of; 
 and His reply was called an utterance, a response, an oracle. 
 But then, as ull the communications of God to man, however 
 made, are on topics of deep and solemn import, they may all 
 be regarded as responses to human inquiries, although these 
 inquiiies may never have been put formally and in so many 
 words ; and hence the other parts of the Bible, as well as 
 those which contain His direct responses, came to be denomi- 
 nated oracles also. The law of ten commands, for exam23le 
 — each of these is, in effect, a reply to a solemn inquiry. In 
 all ages, the idolatrous tendencies of the human heart have 
 been asking — and a large majority of mankind continue to 
 repeat the question — "^lay we not have a plurality of gods?" 
 And the first command comes like an oracle from amidst 
 the lio-htnino's of Sinai, " Thou shalt have none other ffods 
 before me.'' Then if we may not — continues the same per- 
 sisting perverseness — may we not at least indulge our senses 
 with symbolical representations of God? And again the 
 thunder of the oracle is heard, " Thou shalt not make unto 
 thyself any graven image" And hence all the commands of 
 the moral law are denominated oracles; "For,"' saitli Stephen, 
 when speaking of Moses, "this is he who, in Momit Sinai, 
 received the lively oracles to give unto us.'" 
 
 And, indeed, what part of the ancient revelation did not 
 reply to some important and importunate inquiry of the 
 human mind ? ^Yllat are the historical books of the Bible, 
 but God's oracular and sufficient reply to man's earnest 
 questionings concerning the origin of the world and the early 
 history of antiquity ? What are all its threatenings, but the 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 227 
 
 oracles of His holiness responding to the questionings of 
 human fear respecting the punishment of sin and a judg- 
 ment to come ? What are all its promises, but the oracles of 
 mercy replying to the hopes of man concerning pardon and 
 endless life ? And what its prophecies, but the answer of the 
 omniscient oracle to man's inquiries respecting the eventful 
 future — and especially respecting the character and office of 
 " Him that was to come/' Hence, the entire Old Testament 
 is described as oracular; for, says the apostle, the great 
 advantage of the Jews consisted in this, that " unto them 
 were committed the oracles of God/' 
 
 But now " He that was to come'' had actually arrived. 
 The living oracle Himself was present in human nature. 
 Questions which man's guilt aad misery had never ceased to 
 ask were now to receive a full, practical, satisfactory reply. 
 But how will He meet the deep necessity? 
 
 You see the messengers of John arrive. You hear the 
 anxious question which comes from his prison-house. Mark, 
 now, the mode in which our Lord replies to it. He collects 
 around Him the blind, the deaf, the maimed, the demon- 
 possessed, the dying — specimens these of the world's moral 
 wreck. In the midst of this human chaos He stands, and, 
 yearning with compassion, breathes upon the victim-mass, 
 and creates it anew. Such was His reply to John ; and you 
 behold in it an emblem of His mode of answering the world's 
 great questions respecting His power to save. " Go," said 
 He to John's disciples at the close of His miraculous display ; 
 " Go, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard/' 
 And at the close of His great redeeming work, " Go," said 
 He to His own disciples ; " Go into all the world, and preach 
 the Gospel to every creature.'' 
 
 V. 
 
 Brethren, have we proved the sufficiency of His redemp- 
 tion ? Then ours is no indifferent position, no slender trust. 
 Talk of successors of the apostles ! Behold, a greater than 
 
228 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 Paul, or Peter, or John is here ! In a high and important 
 sense, we are the successors of Christ. We are to be His 
 rej)resentatives to the world. And our ivords cannot repre- 
 sents His deeds. Our mere 2'>^^ofessions cannot do justice to 
 His works — cannot give the world an idea of His labours, and 
 sacrifices, and wonders of mercy : reminding us, fifthly, that 
 a i^ractical Christianity alone — a Christianity embodied in 
 deeds of mercy — can adequately illustrate the work of redemp- 
 tion by Christ, or meet the inquiries and wants of the world. 
 " And blessed is he," saith Christ, " who, on hearing this, is 
 not off'ended in me.'' 
 
 Brethren, our Lord meant not that His wonder-works 
 should end with Himself " All power is mine," said He, 
 ''in heaven and in earth." All power was at that time lodged 
 in Him, as the centre of an ever-enlarging circle. He him- 
 self was at that moment the kingdom of God on earth ; all 
 the laws, immunities, and resources of that kingdom were 
 enclosed in Him. There He stood, the kingdom of God com- 
 plete, with all its springs coiled for action, all th^ new forces 
 destined to vibrate through the world. And it was in Him, 
 that it might be forthwith unfolded in all them that should 
 receive Him. It was not meant that His life and character 
 should be separated from theirs by a great chasm, a vast abyss — 
 His aU deeds, and theirs all ^professions — His all power, and 
 theirs all feebleness — His all sacrifice, all cross, and theirs 
 all ease and indulgence. Morally, they are to live His life 
 over again. The holiness and love and zeal which appeared 
 in Him are to reappear in tliem with power. 
 
 And do you not see that this is the very character which 
 it is the aim of the Gospel to form ? Conducting us into the 
 l^resence of- the cross, it there gives us to feel that we owe our 
 redemption, not to words, but to deeds — to deeds never to 
 be paralleled — to a sacrifice which never can, never need be 
 repeated. That cross, in the hand of the Spirit, becomes the 
 power of God to our salvation. It deals not with a part of 
 the man. It affects and takes possession of the whole. 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSIAH. 229 
 
 Calling his conscience from the dead, it supplies motives 
 for all his actions, objects for all his affections — gives him 
 back his lost soul, and appropriates the whole as a living 
 power to itself. The kingdom of Christ luithout is carried 
 into him, and he himself becomes a kingdom. Everythinf>- 
 in Christ becomes a transforming power in him. 
 
 Now first he becomes acquainted with the loftiest 2-)rin- 
 ciples of action ; for a love surpassing knowledge has saved 
 him, and wherever he may look, he is still within the range 
 of its saving power. The loftiest ends lie before him ; he is 
 to live instrumentally for the very ends for which the Saviour 
 died. And how can lie hold back who feels that he is not 
 his own ? or how divide his heart with the world, when his 
 only grief is, that his all should so inadequately express his 
 sense of obligation to Christ ? 
 
 And do you not know that to this Spirit, under God, the 
 Gospel owed its early trium2:)hs ? I say not that every Chris- 
 tian then was a hero. Nor would I for a moment imply 
 that Christianity noiv, to be genuine, must be ever in public, 
 and be preceded by the sound of a trumpet. This is too 
 much its character at present, requiring an ample space to 
 work in, supposing that all its works must be efforts, spasms, 
 and demanding the presence of a multitude to witness them 
 — signs these, not of an inward piety, but only of an out- 
 ward — not of a strong Christianity, but of a weak. Great 
 occasions are, of necessity, only of rare occurrence. Only let 
 the minor, the constant occasions for usefulness be embraced, 
 and we shall not need to seek the greater. We shall be ever 
 finding them without seeldng. They will seek us. We shall 
 be unconsciously creating them for ourselves. 
 
 Now, such was the spirit of early Christianity. It shunned 
 no duty as insigTiificant, evaded no difiiculty as insurmount- 
 able, turned aside from no foe. Its zeal was a flame. Its 
 joy, life from the dead. Wherev.er it moved, the altars of 
 heathenism sunk around it ; the thrones of evil fell. One 
 interest prevailed — who should approach nearest to the like- 
 
230 THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 
 
 iiess of Christ, wliicli sliould do most for the enlargement of 
 His reign. Like their Lord and Eedeemer, when apjDroached 
 by the sceptical, they were found surrounded by the poor, 
 the guilty, and the wretched. When questioned by the 
 worldly, they could point to the triumphant change which 
 had ]3assed upon all this vileness — they could say, "Such 
 were some of you; but ye are washed, but ye are justified, 
 but ye are sanctified, in'the name of the Lord Jesus and by 
 the Spirit of our God." In their life, Christianity was seen 
 teaching by example. To their persecutors, the language of 
 the humblest among them was, " We cannot sj^eak for Christ, 
 but we can die for him.'' And to their revilers, " We do 
 not speak great things, but we live them." " The love of 
 Christ constrained them.'' Deeds begot deeds. 
 
 And do we not feel, as we look around on the Church, 
 that that which it needs is the spirit to do "its first works"? 
 That portion of it to which we belong may be nobly averse 
 to all worldly aid from without, but is it equally averse to 
 all feebleness and worldliness within ? It may not be rely- 
 ing for tlie triumphs of the cross on the garlands or gems 
 with which it may be adorned, nor on the stateliness and 
 splendours of the edifice in which it is upr eared, nor on a 
 heaven-descending vision of millennial glory; but hath it 
 anything real, attractive, subduing, in the stead of all this ? 
 When it hears the Saviour say, " Blessed is he that is not 
 offended in me," it may thrill with amazement that any 
 could recoil from Christ. It may be ready to exclaim, 
 "Though all men be offended because of thee, yet will not I" 
 — it may avow its glorying in the cross of Christ ; but is 
 it taking up its own cross? Has it any cross of its own? 
 Is it really and truly a Church militant — a Church confront- 
 ing the world, like an army confronting the foe — a Church 
 so superior to the world, that it is not felt to be a sarcasm to 
 say, that " the world is not Avorthy of it ? " Instances of 
 great liberality, and zeal, and heavenly excellence may not 
 be unknown to it; but are they not exceptions, distinguish- 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE MESSIAH. 231 
 
 ing their subjects almost as much from the Church as they 
 do from the world ? Taken as a whole, is it not felt to be 
 wanting in the spuituality which should place it apart from 
 the world — in the power which should place it above the 
 world — and in the self-denial which shoidd furnish it with 
 resources for the recovery of the world ? Is it, in any sense, 
 worthy of the name — a suffering Church — consciously suffer- 
 ing either from the world, or for it? 
 
 Oh! what meant the apostle when he tells us that he 
 panted to " fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of 
 Christ in my flesh, for his body's sake, which is the Church''? 
 Of course, he meant not that there was anything wanting to 
 the sufficiency of our Lord's sufferings as an expiation for 
 sin. In this respect, they admit of no supplementation. 
 The cross stands alone. But it does imply that, besides the 
 mediatorial element in the sufferings of Christ, and which 
 admits of no addition, there is also the moral element, which, 
 while time shall last, is to be ever receiving additions, and to 
 be filling up. It does irn^lj that there is an aggregate of 
 suffering — a definite amount of labour necessary to the 
 completion of the Church, of which Christ has endured His 
 proportion, and of which each of His faithful followers must 
 endure his. It does imply that the trials of every Christian, 
 as such, are the continuation and the complement of the 
 sufferings of Christ. In this sense, Christ is sui^posed to be 
 still on the earth — the Church is supposed to inherit His 
 suffering condition — is supposed to encounter and endure, as 
 His representative, what He himself would, were He visibly 
 present. But where, I ask, are the marks of this sufferino? 
 
 o * 
 
 Has the world laid diovm its weapons? is its enmity mth God 
 changed into friendship? If not, let the Church report her 
 conflicts, and shew her scars. If life itself be a conflict, how 
 can he be a Christian who, in addition to the ordinary trials 
 of humanity, knows little or nothing of the higher trials of 
 the spiritual life? If the first ages of Christianity, marked 
 as they were by endurance and effort, were not fabulous, how 
 
232 THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSIAH. 
 
 can that be Christianity which bears no cross, and studies 
 only to avoid affliction? The Church exists only ivhile 
 struggling and hy struggling. She is not a palace, but an 
 encamj^ment on the field. She is the Man of sorrows 
 personified and perpetuated here below — an organic body, of 
 which He is the head. And her every word should be a 
 work, and her every work an act of holiness or of mercy — 
 an effort for her o^vn higher spirituality or for the world's 
 recovery — that every aim of every member might have its 
 place and its part in filling up the measure of endurance and 
 effort necessary to her completion. 
 
 And do we not f^el, as we look around on the v/orld, that 
 its condition is one which requires to be met by deeds? 
 Its antagonism requires it; for do v/e not know that it 
 encounters us with deeds ? Were its opposition limited to 
 words only, it would be harmless; but it embodies its 
 hostility in an ever-wakeful spirit — in a consistent, all- 
 pervading, laborious activity — in institutions and agencies 
 mighty for evil; and by a similar embodiment of power 
 alone can it be counterworked. Its sceptical inquiries 
 demand it; for do we not know that the form which its 
 scepticism assumes at present may be exactly expressed by 
 the question, " Art thou He that should come, or do w^e look 
 for another V Do we not know that it speaks of the Gospel 
 only as an intermediate step from Judaism to something 
 better — that so far from regarding Christianity as final, it 
 is looking for the advent of another dispensation? And this 
 scepticism cannot be answered by words — cannot be j^ut ofi" 
 with pretensions. On the contrary, words and pretensions 
 are the very things which have occasioned and invited it. 
 Yes, let us not lavish all our indignation upon it; let us 
 reserve some, at least, for ourselves, as the occasions of it. 
 Men have inferred the character of Christ from our character; 
 and are they not justified in being dissatisfied with Him — 
 in looking out for anotlier? Oh, let us imdeceive them ; let 
 us tell them — practically tell them — that though our Christ 
 
THE SIGNS OF THE TRUE MESSIAH. 233 
 
 may appear to be one of little more than words, the Christ 
 of the New Testament is one whose words are works, whose 
 works are wonders, whose wonders are mercies, and whose 
 mercies exactly meet the inquiries they are making. And 
 do we not know that the wants of the world require it ? 
 Myriads, involved in the darkness of heathenism, have not 
 yet heard that Christ has been in the world. The Church 
 has not yet performed the preliminary work of making Him 
 known. They are still pining for a deliverer; perishing in 
 ignorance that "the Father hath sent the Son to be the 
 Saviour of the world.'' And of those who do know the 
 historic fact of His coming, how large a proportion live and 
 die in ignorance of His gracious character — His saving 
 designs ! Brethren, ours is a sublime trust — a solemn 
 responsibility — to make kno^Aai to our fellow-men a wonder- 
 working Saviour by corresponding deeds. 
 
 And, finally, who does not feel in harmony with these 
 views, that the erection of this place will fall in with the 
 designs of Christ only as it leads to Christian doings ? The 
 most copious prayers, unless they bring down the Simit 
 of God, and the most eloquent preaching, unless it affects 
 the sj)irits of men, are mere words. But let the Holy Spirit 
 be here brought into contact with human spirits, and the 
 result will be works — deeds of liberahty, visits of mercy, 
 schools for the young, institutions of charity — an organisa- 
 tion of living, labouring piety. For an answer to the 
 doubting and the inquiring, you will be able to point to 
 your works — to God's works, wrought through you — to the 
 greatest of all his works, spiritual transformations — "new 
 creatures in Christ Jesus." These transcend the miracles 
 wrought in the presence of John's disciples. These are the 
 works of which the Saviour said, "He that believeth on 
 me, the works that I do shall he do also, and greater works 
 than these shall he do." You will be able to say to in- 
 quirers, " Go, and report what things ye see and hear — the 
 spiritually blind receive their sight, the deaf hear, demons 
 
2o4< THE SIGNS OF THE TEUE BIESSIAH. 
 
 are cast out, tlie dead in sin are raised, tlie kingdom of God 
 is come nigh unto you/' 
 
 Dear friends, am I wrong in supjiosing tliat all present are 
 not the sj^iritual subjects of that kingdom ? And can I be 
 wrono' in addressino; to them one word of exhortation ? 
 Often, doubtless, have you mingled with the great congre- 
 gation, and listened to the a2:)peals of mercy — bu *} hitherto in 
 vain. Like the disciples of John, you have gone into the 
 presence of Christ — have stood near the scene of his wonder- 
 working grace — have been surrounded by the living miracles 
 of His mercy; were you conscious of no desire to have the 
 great change pass upon you ? Like the bhnd and the deaf, 
 the diseased and the dying, on that occasion, you may be 
 said to have been almost under the shadow of ♦ His uplifted 
 hand — within the circle of His life-giving breath. Oh! by 
 what malignant influence have you come forth from time to 
 time unblessed and unsaved ? But once more you have 
 come into His i^rcsence — once more. Have you never known 
 the deep mortification of finding that you had unconsciously 
 been, on some public occasion, near a loved friend, or a dis- 
 tinguished personage, without ever recognizing his j^resence? 
 Oh ! at this moment, " there standeth one among you whom 
 ye know not." Do you not see Him ? He is close by you. 
 Do you not feel Him ? He is actually speaking to you. Do 
 you not hear Him, asking, "Wilt thou be made whole?" 
 But think you that He comes for less than to seek and to 
 save that which is lost ? And can you, as one of the lost, 
 be here for less than to be saved by Him ? Oh, oj^en the 
 door of your soul, and He will come in unto you — will make 
 your conscience His seat, your heart His altar, your regene- 
 rated spirit His living temple. And in that day when He 
 shall surround Himself with all the trophies of His grace, 
 you shall be present as a miracle of His saving power. 
 
CHKIST S LONGING FOE THE COMPLETION OF HIS WOllK. 235 
 
 SEEMON X. 
 
 Christ's longing for the completion of his work. 
 
 Luke xii. 50— " I have a baptism to be baptized with; and how am I 
 straitened till it be accomphshed!" 
 
 Both this verse and that which jDrececles it partake of the 
 obscurity which generally belongs to language uttered in 
 great mental agitation. Taken together, they may be 
 paraphrased thus — "I foresee that the propagation of my 
 Gospel will, through the wickedness of man, involve the 
 earth in the flames of discord; yet, what do I wish? So 
 distinctly do I foresee that such incidental evils will be more 
 than compensated by the blessings of the Gospel, that I 
 could wish those flames were already kindled. But in order 
 to procure those blessings, I foresee that I myself must first 
 be overwhelmed with suflering — be baptized with blood. 
 And so intensely do I long for the accomplishment of human 
 redemption, that, be that suffering what it may, I am 
 impatient — distressed — for its arrival and comj)letion.'' 
 
 This, to my mind, is one of the most solemn and sublime 
 passages in the Word of God. The Saviour could not have 
 uttered it in ordinary tones. It came from the mysterious 
 depths of His heart. The tuhole of His nature uttered it- 
 Divine and human. The thrilling exclamations which he 
 soon afterwards uttered in his agony, were simply the 
 language of his suffering, shrinking humanity — the language 
 of the Son of man ; this was the lano-uao-e of the Son of God, 
 looking beyond that sufi'ering to its sublime results, and 
 
236 cheist's longing for the 
 
 ea<rer to endure it in order that He mio;lit attain tliose results. 
 Who present is in a state of mind to symjoathize with it? 
 And yet to enter on the consideration of it without such 
 sympathy, to rush into it as into an ordinary subject, is like 
 intruding on the privacy and devotion of the Son of God — 
 like breaking upon the sacred sorrows of Gethsemane. May 
 the Spirit of Christ take of the things involved in this 
 Scrij)ture, explain them to our minds, and impress them on 
 our hearts ! 
 
 The great truth which the text exhibits, is the entire and 
 intense devotedness of Christ to the completion of His 
 mediatorial suffering, with a view to its subsequent and 
 sublime results. And we propose to shew, firstly, that He 
 uniformly felt and exhibited the intense concern which the 
 text expresses for the completion of His work; to specify, 
 secondly, the reasons for His solicitude ; thirdly, to shew that 
 His concern for human salvation is still unabated; and, 
 fourthly, to point out the effect which it should have on 
 our Christian devotedness. 
 
 We have to shew, first, that the Sa\dour uniformly 
 exhibited the deep concern which the text expresses for the 
 completion of His mediatorial work on earth. 
 
 1. To say that He had not been beguiled or surprised into 
 the work of our redemption, would be saying but little. He 
 had undertaken it intelligently, and with the distinct foresight 
 of all the liabilities which it involved. He had looked into 
 the darkest recesses of depravity in the human heart, and had 
 sounded the lowest dej^ths of human misery, before He came 
 to expiate the one or relieve the other. Yet, having taken a 
 survey of all that would be required from the surety of 
 sinners — having cast up and pondered the mighty sum of 
 guilt to be cancelled, and measured with His eye the thunder- 
 stores of wrath which must be exliausted, and fathomed the 
 pit. which to them was bottomless — he pressed His entire 
 
COlilPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 237 
 
 responsibiKty to His heart and addressed Himself to the 
 mighty task. 
 
 2. To say that He had not been forced into the great 
 undertaking, would be saying but little. There is a large 
 class of Sacred Scriptures which shew that, in saving man, 
 He was only obeying the spontaneous dictates, and gratifying 
 the compassionate yearnings of His own heart. He assumed 
 life for the express purpose of laying it down. He shewed 
 that His heart was full of a purpose formed from eternity. 
 No scene of trial could take Him by sm^jnise — no hour of 
 suffering find Him unprepared. He saw, as from a height, 
 the whole array of duty and trial which avraited Him ; and 
 the only emotion He evinced at the sight was a self-consuming 
 ardour to reach the cross which stood at the end of His path 
 — a holy impatience to be baptized with that baptism of 
 blood. 
 
 3. To say that the ardour evinced in the text for the com- 
 pletion of His work was not of new or sudden growth, would 
 be saying but little. A large and interesting class of Scrip- 
 tures exist to prove that there never was a moment in which, 
 even 2^'i^ior to His incarnation, He did not anticipate its com- 
 pletion with similar intensity of desire. When the new- 
 made world first roEed round to His eye the habitable parts 
 of the earth, " Then,'' saith He, " my delights were with the 
 sons of men" — His mind sprang forwards to embrace and 
 bless them. AYhen He sav/ the insufficiency of animal sacri- 
 fices to atone for sin, and beheld, by antici^^ation, the body 
 in v/hich He was to "take away the sin of the- world,'' He 
 exclaimed, " Lo, I come" — " A body hast thou prepared me" 
 — "I delight to do thy will, my God;" as if nothing but 
 the immutable arrangements of God could have prevented 
 His coming and completing His sacrificial engagements at 
 once. And when from the bosom of the Father He looked 
 on through the ages of time — marked the successive parts of 
 His great undertaldng, as it seemed to pass in slow and 
 stately procession, till He beheld the scene of the rising dead, 
 
238 cheist's longing foe the 
 
 all tlie intermediate ages seemed instantly to vanish. He 
 saw in anticipation the Iving of terrors disarmed beneath 
 His feet, the world flooded with light and life, the song of 
 mjnriads reached His ear, shouting His name as their great 
 Deliverer, and with holy impatience to realize the scene. He 
 exclaimed, " I will ransom them from the power of the grave; 
 I will redeem them from death ! death, I will be thy 
 plagues ! grave, I will be thy destruction ! '' In uttering 
 the language of the text, therefore. He was only expressing 
 the sentiment of easier devotedness to His mediatorial work 
 which He had felt from before the foundation of the world. 
 
 4. To say that He did not neglect the work which was given 
 Him to do, would be sajdng but little. "My meat," said He, 
 "is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his 
 work" — in other words. His devotedness luas entire. "For 
 their sakes,"' said He, " I sanctify myself" — and He did so. 
 He set Himself apart to the wants and sorrows of earth. 
 The salvation of man occupied His thoughts from the first 
 moment to the last of His continuance npon earth. All the 
 paths of human ambition were open and accessible to Him; 
 but He passed them all by. All the kingdoms of the world, 
 and the glory of them, were laid at His feet; but He saw 
 them as if He saw them not. With a sinoie sentence He 
 could have flashed light on the darkest mysteries of j^hilo- 
 sophy ; but He would not thus debase His mission—He would 
 not spare a single moment from teaching that higher science, 
 the knowledge of salvation. He had ears only for one 
 sound — and that was the voice of penitence imploring for- 
 giveness — the voice of fear and conscious guilt dei^recating 
 the vengeance of eternal fire, and crying for relief He had 
 eyes only for one sight — and that was the misery of man — 
 the sj^ectacle of a world invaded, ruined, lost, and moving 
 along in chains to the pit of perdition. This object filled the 
 whole sj^here of His vision; He could see nothing else; and 
 had all the thrones of earth been vacant, and invited His 
 acceptance, it would not have induced Him to diverge a 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 239 
 
 single step from the path which led direct to the cross. He 
 had tears but for one sorrow — and He wept them over lost 
 souls. So fully was He possessed with the vastness of His 
 designs, that He valued moments, faculties, life itself only as 
 the means of working it out; and through every stej) of His 
 course He brought the whole of His glory to bear on its com- 
 jDletion. Though all the fulness and fire of the passions 
 dwelt in Him, never did He waste a sinoie feelino- but 
 devoted the whole as consecrated fuel for offering uj) the 
 great sacrifice in which His life was consumed, and by which 
 the world might be saved. 
 
 5. And not only was His devotedness entire, including the 
 consecration of all His powers, it was eager and intense, not 
 allomng the unnecessary delay of a moment, nor admitting 
 of the slightest increase. To say that four thousand years 
 were allowed to elapse prior to His advent, is no objection 
 whatever to this statement. It only reminds us that His 
 devotedness, ardent as it w^as, was yet regulated by wisdom — 
 that His zeal was not the zeal of improvident precipitation — 
 that He did not sacrifice one interest to another — that He 
 acted on a large and comprehensive plan — ^that the great 
 object of His devotedness was to reconcile all the true 
 interests of the universe together — and that for some of these 
 He had to wait — others to prepare for — all of them to adjust 
 according to their respective claims. To say, then, that four 
 thousand years elapsed prior to His advent, is no objection 
 whatever. It should be remembered that, as far as man was 
 concerned, the means of salvation were not meanwhile with- 
 held — that during the whole of that time, mercy was all 
 the day long stretching out her arms to save. It should be 
 remembered, too, that our interests were not the only 
 interests to be considered — that other orders of being were 
 interested — that all the great principles of the Divine govern- 
 ment were involved — that what was taking place during all 
 that time, was taking place in the eyes of the universe, and 
 for all the ages of eternity. There was a sense in which 
 
240 cheist's longing foe the 
 
 Judea had to be prepared as tlie theatre of the great trans- 
 action — there was a sense in which the world had to be 
 prepared, in which the great moral questions of its guilt, its 
 ever-increasing depravity, its utter helplessness, had to be 
 worked out and demonstrated — there was a sense in which 
 the inhabitants of heaven itself had to be morally prepared 
 for witnessing, appreciating, and j^rofiting by the great event. 
 Not a mojnent was lost — not a moment elapsed which was 
 not charged with its appointed duty, and which did not 
 behold every interest concerned travelling with the rapidity 
 of light to the appointed issue. Hence it was that the 
 fulness of time had no sooner arrived than the Saviour 
 aj)peared. Yes, we believe that it will be only necessary for 
 us to see in the light of eternity how many ends were 
 answered, prior to the incarnation of Christ, in order to be 
 convinced that nothing less than the most intense devotedness 
 could so soon have brought them to pass — that during the 
 whole of that time, as He saw the j^reparation for His advent 
 advancing from stage to stage, the language of His conduct 
 was, " How am I straitened tiU it be accomplished ! '* 
 
 To say, again, that thirty years elapsed after His advent 
 before He publicly entered on His ministerial work, is no 
 objection to this representation. The probability is, not only 
 that His private life was, in this respect, in perfect kee2:)ing 
 with His public course, but that it was necessary to it; that 
 but for His years of privacy. His years of j^ublicity would not 
 have presented the sublime spectacle which they do ; tliat 
 during all that time He was, as man, acquiring that greatness 
 of mind, that nobleness of sentiment, that depth and delicacy 
 of feeling, that moral fitness, of which His public life was 
 only the visible expression. Besides, be it remembered that 
 the great design of His advent was the expiation of human 
 guilt; and that, in order to the j^erfection of His sacrifice, 
 the perfection of His humanity was indisjoensable, and this 
 required that He should reach matuiity. There is reason to 
 conclude, therefore, that His path from the throne to the 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOLK. 211 
 
 cross was direct ; that every step He took bronght Him nearer 
 to it; that never did a candidate for the imze press towards 
 the mark more earnestly than He pressed towards the altar 
 of sacrifice; that so eagerly was He bent on reaching it, that 
 a frecxuent and enlarged survey of all the interests concerned 
 was necessary in order to restrain Him from hastening at 
 once to its comj^letion. There is reason to believe that, during 
 the whole of His continuance on earth, His sensibilities were 
 all in activity and excitement; that the perishing condition 
 of man made a constant demand, a perpetual drain on His 
 pity, sufficient to exhaust every heart but One, which was 
 daily replenished at the fountain of compassion itself Yes, 
 there is reason to believe that He endured at times paroxysms 
 of anguish so great, that no compound of mortal elements, 
 unless supernaturally sustained, could have outhved them; 
 that His course would have been much sooner run — that He 
 would have fallen, exhausted in body and mind, before the 
 cross was reached — had He not lived in immediate commu- 
 nication with a hidden source of inexhaustible streno-th. 
 
 11. 
 
 But why this eager and intense desire to reach the goal of 
 His humiliation ? Surely He was not in love with suifering ! 
 Surely He did not overrate the importance of the results 
 dependent on it ! Let us proceed, secondly, to sj)ecify some 
 of the reasons which account for it, and we shall find that it 
 was not only exjilicable and justifiable, but infinitely neces- 
 sary — well for a guilty world that His zeal was not a particle 
 less. 
 
 1. For what? He had undertaken to minister to the relief 
 of a world groaning in its misery — and all that misery was 
 before Him. He did not — by necessity of nature He could 
 not — content Himself, as we do, with vague impressions of 
 human woe. He saw it with a distinctness and felt it with 
 a power which made it all His own. Wherever He looked, 
 He saw scenes and wastes of human woe — scenes in which 
 
 Q 
 
242 CHRIST'S LONGING FOR THE 
 
 tlie only objects which met His eye were the chains of cap- 
 tivity, the pains of superstition, the struggles of poverty, the 
 disappointments of ambition, the misgivings of the self- 
 righteous, the exhausted efforts of the sinner, lashed by the 
 reproaches of an angry conscience, and labouring to escape 
 from a load of guilt. Whenever He listened. He heard the 
 thickening cries of misery; His ear caught a sigh or a sound 
 of woe from every habitation, every breast of man — a never- 
 ebbing tide of the sounds of anguish, strife, and death. And 
 as He looked on the living mass of misery, heaving, and 
 surging, and travailing in pain together, and remembered that 
 it v/as a chained and laden j^ower wrestling with its bondage, 
 striving to rise, yearning after a something undefined, and 
 which His Gospel alone could supply, He felt that its every 
 sigh and its every struggle was, in effect, a distinct appeal 
 that He would hasten the work of deliverance, and He was 
 straitened until the work was accomplished. 
 
 2. But there was more than misery to be remedied — there 
 was guilt, the cause of it all — and that He had undertaken 
 to atone for. He knew the history of sin. He had seen it 
 in its awful origin, expelling the angels from heaven, and 
 preparing for them a hell ; and He knew that, had justice 
 taken its natural course, man would have shared the same 
 fate. But He had averted the stroke. He had eno-ao-ed to 
 render compensation in His own person. On the ground of 
 that engagement man had been spared. Ages had elaj^sed 
 since then ; and He knew that during every moment of the 
 time, man had gone on, aggravating His guilt in every possible 
 way, and outraging the government of God; and that, con- 
 sequently, every principle of^that government had been cry- 
 ing louder and louder for the promised compensation, till 
 now these cries had reached a height which proclaimed 
 that the hour of atonement had come, and that to delay it 
 would be to shake every pillar of the Divine government and 
 to involve the earth in instant flames. Perfectly sympathizing, 
 therefore, as He did with those outraged laws— feeling as 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOKK. 243 
 
 He did that they were all looking to Him for vindication 
 
 and knowing as He did what would be the just but tremen- 
 dous alternative were they to be disaiDpointed of their expected 
 due, He pressed tov/ards the cross, and confessed Himself 
 straitened till the great crisis had passed. 
 
 3. But more still. There was more than the misery of man 
 to be remedied — more than the rights of justice to be satis- 
 fied ; there was the character of God to be embodied and made 
 manifest as the God of love— and He had undertaken that. 
 *' Oh, righteous Father," said He, " the world hath not known 
 thee I" And hence its alienation from Thee. And He knew 
 that, as all our alienation had arisen from our disbelief of the 
 love of God, so the recovery of our affections depended on His 
 reimpressmg the conviction of that love upon our hearts. 
 But how shall this be done? Has not God been aiming at 
 it already for thousands of years ? What can the nature of 
 that act be which shall effect it now — which shall at once do 
 justice to the love of God, and shame or melt the world into 
 the belief of it ? One act there was, and only one, and hence 
 His eagerness to perform it — " the Son of man must be lifted 
 up." In that act the heart of God himself will be seen 
 beating and bleeding for human salvation. Beyond that act 
 even infinite compassion itself cannot go. After that act all 
 the holy universe will unite in attesting that God is love. 
 And hence the anxiety of Christ to perform the act which 
 should prove it. For to wipe off every stain from the 
 character of God, and to present it in its real glory, infinitely 
 outweighed with Him every other consideration. 
 
 4. And this reminds us of another reason to account for 
 His eagerness to reach the cross — the glory which should 
 accrue to God in the salvation of mankind. He knew that 
 by dying He should not merely vindicate the character of 
 God— not merely win for it the admiration of heaven — but 
 that a number which no man can number would be redeemed 
 from among men. He kneiu this. There rveie times v/hen 
 the vision came before Him — when He saw the darkness of 
 
244 cheist's lokgikg foe the 
 
 cartli rolled away, and tlie world flooded with light and life 
 — when He saw the myriads of the saved in heaven casting 
 their crowns at His feet, and ascribing their salvation to God 
 and to the Lamb. And for the joy thus set before Him He 
 was eager to endure the cross, despising the shame. Yes, in 
 projDortion to the grandeur of the results dependent on it, was 
 the strength of His ardour to endure it; and in j)ro23ortion to 
 that, He felt straitened until it was endured. 
 
 The pillars of human hope had been gradually bending in 
 and leaning on Him with greater and still greater pressure, 
 till now His hand upheld the whole — how earnestly did He 
 long to erect and announce the cross as the stay and su})pi)rb 
 of the sinking world! From the beginning of time every 
 being, from every quarter of the Divine dominions, may be 
 said to have been looking to Him and collecting around Him, 
 till now they pressed upon Him on all sides round. Every 
 lover of mercy was there — every minister of Divine justice 
 — every friend of man. He saw that there was not an eye 
 which was not fixed on Him — felt that there w\as not a single 
 principle which Vv^as not resting on Him entirely for support. 
 Oh, if there be a passage in Scripture, the meaning of vvliich 
 we must die in order to comprehend, it is that which the 
 Saviour uttered when at this crisis He exclaimed, as if He felfc 
 all the infinite capabilities of His nature in stress, " Hov/ am 
 I straitened till it be accomplished ! '' And if there be a passage, 
 the meaning of which it will require an eternity fully to 
 expand, it is that which He uttered the moment the work was 
 accomplished, "It is finished ! '' — words, I apprehend, meant 
 more for heaven than earth — meant more for the ear of 
 invisible beings — words for which whole orders of beings had 
 been held in anxious suspense — and to hear which the uni- 
 verse had been hushed into breathless silence. Often, we may 
 suppose, had cherubim and scrai^him asked with intense 
 concern, " Has the crisis come? Is the great transaction 
 ipast?" And as often as they heard that it was yet to come, 
 their concern for the issue grew more intense. When, there- 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 245 
 
 fore, at length the words were uttered, pangs of iinknovrii 
 solicitude were allayed — a burden fell from the minds of the 
 blessed — the universe breathed more freely — the announce- 
 ment was transmitted like lightning from rank to rank of the 
 intelligent creation, till the remotest region resounded with 
 the glad rejoort — the Gospel of heaven — "It is finished!'^ 
 Now, it was with the distinct foresiofht that such, and fiii 
 more, would be the sublime result of His death, and with the 
 intense desire that such should be, that He now travailed ir, 
 soul, and was in pangs for its accompUshment. 
 
 III. 
 
 But we have to shew, thirdly, that though the great crisis 
 is passed, the concern of Christ for the salvation of man is 
 undiminished. True, as far as that concern involved suffer- 
 ing, it has ceased. All that was toilsome He hath done — all 
 that was penal He hath exhausted — the cup of suffering He 
 hath drained — the ignominy is ended, never, never to be 
 repeated. " He dieth no more.'' " It is finished." But the 
 concern expressed in the text looked beyond that I He 
 viewed the cross only as a means to an end ; so that if He 
 longed to reach it, it was not merely that He might pass it, 
 but that He might then attain that end beyond. All tlie 
 concern, therefore, which He once felt to reach the cross 
 is now transferred to the accomplishment of that end f )r 
 which He reached it. All the Divine solicitude which 
 once bore Him on to the cross is now impelling Him for- 
 wards to that end ; and the language of all His conduct 
 concernmg it is, "How am I straitened till it be accom- 
 plished !" Are we asked to prove this? Besides the nature 
 and necessity of the case, to which we have just adverted, 
 we might remind you of the doctrines and disclosures of 
 Scripture on the subject. 
 
 1. AYould you admit that a person discovered urgency for 
 an object if he lost not a moment in arranging for its attain- 
 ment ? No sooner had the Saviour emerged from the tomb 
 
246 cheist's longing foe the 
 
 than He summoned His disciples, and began to prepare tliem 
 for their mission to the ends of the earth. 
 
 2. Does a person discover intense concern for an object, if 
 he consecrates all his power to its attainment ? The Saviom- 
 did this. As soon as He could say in His mediatorial capa- 
 city, " All power is mine,'' He added, " Go preach the Gospel 
 to every creature,'' intimating that the only use He proposes 
 to make of all power is to promote the ends for which He 
 died. As if, having entered the spacious treasury of God, 
 and taken account of all its riches — having reckoned up all 
 the orders of heavenly beings, and marked their respective 
 capacities for His service — having looked down through all 
 the ages of time, counted its generations, and numbered its 
 events, He had said, 
 
 "All these shall ultimately be harmonized, combined, and 
 made contributory to the one object of human salvation. 
 Vast as is the space they occupy, there is not a point in 
 all that space which shall not in some way be impressed mtli 
 the signs of their activity — a theatre less ample would not 
 be adequate to the development of my plan. Diversified as 
 are the influences they are calculated to exert, and even 
 hostile as many of them are to my ^lurpose, there is not one 
 of them all which cannot and which shall not yield its 
 pro2:)ortion of willing or unwilling service. And distant as 
 is the period when the last soul shall be saved, there shall 
 not be a moment through the whole of the mighty interval 
 in which all these countless and far-reachino; ao-encies shall 
 not be gradually contracting their sphere of operation, con- 
 centrating their power, and bringing their whole influence 
 to bear more directly and fully on that grand consummation. 
 All power is mine in heaven and in earth; go ye, therefore, 
 and i^rcach the gospel.'' 
 
 3. Does a person discover intense concern for an object if 
 he not only consecrates all his own power to it, but if the 
 first use which he makes of that power be to secure and 
 employ the agency of others? In the loftiest sense, the 
 
COaiPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 247 
 
 Saviour did this. The first agency which He engaged after 
 He ascended the mediatorial throne was that of the Holy- 
 Spirit — the great agent of the universe. And the express, 
 the only object of His coming was, not to speak of Himself 
 but of Christ — to testify of Christ — to glorify Christ — to 
 convince the world of sin, and convert it to Christ. 
 
 Not more entirely did the Saviour devote and set Himself 
 apart to the work of human salvation than the Spirit came 
 and set Himself apart to glorify Christ, by promoting the 
 ends for which He died. 
 
 And what must be His estimate of the work of Christ, 
 that He should thus, in a sense, be content to be silent con- 
 cerning; Himself, in order that the world mio'ht resound with 
 nothing but the claims of Christ — to conceal His own splen- 
 dour, that the eye of the world might rest undisturbed on 
 Christ alone! And what urgency does it stamp on the 
 accomplishment of those ends, that His agency should be 
 engaged to secure, them ; and that, till they are secured, that 
 agency should, in effect, be engaged in nothing else — be exclu- 
 sively devoted to this ! 
 
 4. Does a person discover intense concern for an object, if 
 he commands and lays under tribute the instrumentality of 
 every one belonging to him for its attainment? The Saviour 
 has done this. Not one of all His followers is allowed to 
 claim exemption. " He that is not with me,'' saith Christ, 
 and during every moment in which he is not with me, "is 
 against me.'' 
 
 Lax views on this subject are the origin of much of that 
 inferior jDiety by which the Chm^ch is enfeebled, and its 
 usefulness imjoaired. Thousands of professing Christians 
 seem to proceed on the supposition, that there is a sense in 
 v,diich they are still partially their own — that there are 
 considerable portions of time in which they are at perfect 
 liberty to relax and stand at ease — that, at such times, their 
 conduct is quite neutral in its influence — that anything short 
 of positive hostility against Christ is to be regarded as so 
 
248 CHRIST'S LONGING FOR THE 
 
 mucli service clone for Him. Now, were this supposition as 
 true as it is false — were it quite possible for the Christian to 
 withhold from Christ a portion of his resources, without 
 rendering by such an act the least advantage to the foe, it 
 would still be highly inconsistent and unjust. For, at the 
 very moment we are relaxing in His service, ten thousand of 
 His agencies are at work for us. At the moment we are 
 self-indulging, we are doing it with His money, in His time, 
 at His expense. But, when we remember that every particle 
 of influence withheld from Christ is so much employed against 
 Him — that neutrality here is impossible — the consequences 
 are alarming. 
 
 Christians, could you ascend some mount of vision, whence 
 you could look down upon all the consequences of your 
 conduct, you would see that, at the moment when you thought 
 yourself most perfectly detached from all around you, there 
 is a sense in which you were then standing in the centre of 
 the universe with lines of relation and influence drawn from 
 yourselves to every one of the congregated myriads ; you 
 would see that often, when you thought your character most 
 unobserved and at rest, it was giving out moral influences 
 without intermission — that the moment they ceased to be 
 good, they began to be evil — that, however 'apparently 
 unimportant, they have ever since been swelling that tide of 
 evil by which myriads are borne on to perdition ; you would 
 see that the world is the scene of a moral conflict — that in 
 that conflict you hold an appointed post — that at that post 
 everythmg you possess is a weapon of war — that never have 
 you ceased to wield them either for evil or for good; for the 
 moment in which you thought you were only pausing, a 
 shout of joy ran through the ranks of the invisible foe, who 
 beheld in that pause a proof of your weakness, and the sign 
 and means of their own strength — so that Avhen you thought 
 you were only doing nothing for Christ, they hailed you as 
 an accession to their o^vn ranks, acting against Him; and 
 thus you would see why it was that Meroz was cursed because 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WORK. 249 
 
 tliey came not out to the help of the Lord, and why it is 
 that, in the final judgment, those that did nothing will find 
 themselves standing side by side with them that did evil, and 
 involved in the same condemnation. 
 
 Oh, precious, precious influence, each grain of which 
 exceeds the value of the globe! Well might our Lord be 
 jealous for every particle, since there are but two treasuries 
 in the universe, one for Him and the other for Satan, so 
 that every grain withheld from His falls into and enriches 
 the other. And well may the Christian regard himself with 
 all the sacredness of a temple, since he cannot yield himself 
 to any other claimant than Christ, even for a moment, without 
 yielding himself during that moment to a hostile party; so 
 that, in truth, his only escape from partial hostility to Christ 
 is that of unreserved devotedness to His service. 
 
 5. But speak we of the fact that Christ has thus laid all 
 the members of His Church under solemn obligation, as a 
 proof of His unabated solicitude for human salvation ; from 
 the concluding book of Scripture, the Book of the Eevelation, 
 there is reason to believe that he has engaged the agency of 
 every angel in heaven for the same object. Nay, there is 
 reason to conclude that they are not only engaged, but that, 
 from the moment they comprehended the great design of 
 His death, they themselves have felt straitened till it l)e 
 accomplished — that in this respect they perfectly sympathize 
 with Christ — that when the Gospel was first proclaimed, they 
 felt a holy impatience to see it taken to the ends of the 
 earth — possibly they expected, that wherever it was taken it 
 would triumph — that such a message of mercy could not 
 be rejected. There is reason to believe that they have never 
 yet witnessed the apathy of the Church in diff"using the 
 Gospel without experiencing a feeling which answers to 
 profound disappointment and regret — that they never behold 
 its successful propagation without hailing the event as an 
 addition to their own happiness — that they never hear it 
 proclaimed to a people without waiting and watching with 
 
250 Christ's longing foe the 
 
 holy anxiety to see tlie result — and that, no sooner does the 
 first sigh escape the penitent sinner, and the first tear drop, 
 than joy thrills through all their i^rincipalities and powers — 
 and that one reason why they rejoice in his conversion is, 
 that they behold in him another agent for carrying on the 
 great designs of the Saviour's death. There is reason to 
 believe that so deeply do they sympathize with Christ their 
 Lord in His undiminished solicitude for human salvation, 
 that not only is each angel at his post as an agent of Christ, 
 and each vial of judgment ready to be discharged on the 
 enemies of His Gospel, and each harp tuned for the celebra- 
 tion of its final triumj^h — but that, were the exchange 
 permitted, gladly v/ould they resign, for a while, their 
 heavenly seats to us, that they might discharge our trust, 
 wield our influence, and win the honours which are offered 
 to us in drawing men to Christ. 
 
 6. But if all this may be inferred from the concluding book 
 of Scri2:)ture, what may we learn from the concluding para- 
 graph — the postscript of the Bible? — what but the concern 
 of Christ to fill the entire Church in heaven and earth with 
 His own solicitude for human salvation — " The Spmt and 
 the Bride say. Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. 
 And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let 
 him take the water of life freely.'' 
 
 Here is the summing-up of all His arrangements and com- 
 mands for the diff'Lision of the Gospel. If all the invitations 
 of mercy could be condensed and uttered in a single word, 
 that word would be, come. Having opened the fountain 
 of eternal life in the midst of the desert world, the Spirit — 
 the Church — every member of that Church — every jiower of 
 every member, even if he can only utter the exclamation 
 "come" — are all to be combined and devoted to the grand 
 object of inviting the perishing world to partake. Every 
 one that hears the call is to transmit it further still — there 
 is no point at which it may stop — a chain of living voices 
 is to be carried round the globe in every direction — till the 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WORK. 251 
 
 earth grows vocal witli the sound of the Church invitmg men 
 to Christ. 
 
 7. But if all this urgency is implied in the last look, and 
 
 expressed in the last paragraph of Scripture, what shall we 
 
 say of the last sentence which the Saviour uttered, " Behold, 
 
 I come quickly"? Does it not imply that there is not a 
 
 moment to be lost? Is it not meant to stimulate the 
 
 lingering progress of the Church into urgent activity? Does 
 
 it not intimate that the eye of Him who uttered it is already 
 
 fixed intently on the goal, and that He counts each moment 
 
 lost which does not bring us nearer to it? Yes; as if we 
 
 had only a single word to utter, and only a moment in 
 
 which to utter it, He would have us to pour into the 
 
 utterance of it all the impassioned earnestness of which 
 
 we are capable — assuring us that the Spirit himself would 
 
 pour into it also His own infinite energy — that a Church 
 
 so devoted would carry along with it all the sympathies 
 
 of the holy universe. 
 
 8. "But why this continued solicitude on the part of 
 Christ?'' it may be asked. " Has not His great sacrifice been 
 not only oSered, but accepted? and is He not now exalted in 
 consequence to the right hand of God?" Yes; but His 
 concern relates now to the proclamation of His atoning 
 sacrifice throughout the world, and to the salvation of those 
 who rely on it. Having provided the means of salvation, 
 He is now for pressing on to the end. And hence He prays 
 even in heaven. Though at the right hand of God, He ever 
 liveth, even there, to make intercession. While all heaven is 
 occupied in the celebration of His praise, He is occupied in 
 still urging on the great object for which He died. " But is 
 He not invested with power, and seated on a throne?'' Yes, 
 ^ays the apostle, but even there He is " henceforth expecting' 
 ^•from the moment He ascended it, He has been waiting 
 j^Qr — expecting — looking on with intense desire to the tim.e 
 when all His foes shall be at His feet— aU His friends at His 
 side— all the ends of His death fulfilled— and the only use 
 
252 CHRIST'S LONGING FOR THE 
 
 wliicli He makes of His power nieanwliile is to urge and 
 liasteu on tlie grand consummation. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Brethren, what, fourthly, should be the practical applica- 
 tion of this subject? If the devotedness of Christ to the 
 ►salvation of man was such that He not only agonized on the 
 cross, but even agonized for it, and if His Divine solicitude 
 be still undiminished — then, surely, the Christian cannot 
 render less than entire devotedness to the same object. 
 Accordingly, the Saviour claims every Christian here for 
 Himself From the moment He saw the travail of His soul 
 accomplished in you, your duty became definite, imperative, 
 one. If every other member of the human family were 
 abandoned to live without control — if the sun itself were left 
 to wander at random through infinite space — ^your course 
 would still be minutely prescribed. As if you alone held 
 the grx}at secret of the cross, and were consequently the most 
 important being on the face of the earth, your every moment 
 is charged with an appointed duty. As if you had been 
 ''made alive from the dead;" yes, not merely as if you had 
 been called out of nothingness into existence, not merely as 
 if you had been selected and sent down from the ranks of 
 the blessed above, but with stronger motives still — as it 
 your guilty soul had been recalled from j^erdition, v^liere the 
 undying worm had found you and where the unqueiicba1)le 
 flame had enwrapped you, and your dissolved body had 
 been recalled from the dnst of death — and as if you had 
 "risen together with Clirist," had literally come out of the 
 tomb with Christ, and had received life and salvation 
 together at the mouth of the sepulchre at the hand of Christ 
 — all your new-found powers are to be held by you as a 
 precious trust for the service of Christ. As if you had come 
 forth from the sepulchre at first with life only — and as if 
 your reason, affections, knowledge, speech, property, had 
 then bc3en returned to you separately and in succession, with 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 253 
 
 a distinct intimation accompanying each that you received it 
 back for Christ — you are to look on yourself henceforth as 
 a part of the cross, as taken up into the great designs of 
 Christ, as bound for life and death in His plans of mercy. 
 Your character is to be a reproduction of the character of 
 Christ. The disinterestedness which appeared in Christ is 
 to reappear in you. The tenderness of Christ — his untold 
 solicitude for human souls — is to live over again in your 
 tones of entreaty, your wrestling prayers for their salvation. 
 The blood of the- cross itself is, in a sense, to stream forth 
 again in your tears of anguish, your voluntary and vicarious 
 self-sacrifice to draw men to Christ. And if tempted to lend 
 but a particle of your influence to any other claimant than 
 Christ, your reply is at hand — " I am not my o^vn" — I am 
 Christ's. He has put it out of my power to give Him more 
 than belongs to Him, for He has purchased and challenges 
 the whole through every moment of time — and out of my 
 will to give Him less, for if I know any grief, it is that my 
 all should so inadequately express my sense of obligation, 
 and so feebly promote those great designs on the accomphsh- 
 ment of which His heart is so intensely set. 
 
 2. But if we thus sjmipathize with Christ, we shall see 
 the importance of everything calculated to j^i'oi^ote the 
 object of His solicitude. Viewed in connexion with these 
 objects, nothing we do is insignificant — an act apparently 
 tri\ial, a word, a look, acquires a character of infinite 
 moment. You may sometimes have wondered at the import- 
 ance attached in Scripture to things of apparently small 
 account. A cup of cold water given to a disciple, in the 
 name of a disciple, is to receive the plaudits of the universe. 
 A poor widow casts in two mites into the temple treasury: 
 and if the Saviour had not graciously noticed it, man would 
 have accounted it the merest trifle. But His noticing the act 
 did not make it important. He noticed it because it was 
 important. It would have been quite as important had He 
 never so noticed it. And one of His objects in noticing it 
 
254 CHRIST'S LONGING FOR THE 
 
 was to teach iis this — to assure us that every such act, 
 whether noticed or not on earth, is both noticed and recorded 
 in heaven — that He receives it as a tribute of affection to 
 Himself — accounts Himself enriched by it — and the cause 
 for which He died intentionally and therefore really ^yo- 
 moted." One of His messengers goes forth to preach the 
 Gospel, and obtains an audience; "And I say unto you/' 
 saith Christ, " in receiving him, they have received me, and 
 in receiving me, they have received Him that sent me/' 
 See what a train of subliine consequences the sincere recep- 
 tion- of the Gospel draws after it! the reception of Christ 
 in all His mediatorial glory, and of the Father in all His 
 infinite benignity and love ! — consequences, therefore, which 
 ask infinity and eternity for the full expansion of thek 
 results. 
 
 See, too, what a train of results is involved in an event 
 like that which has now assembled us together ! Brethren, 
 if there be any proportion between events on earth and the 
 degree of emotion which they excite in heaven, the dedica- 
 tion of a house to the great purposes of the Cross must 
 excite a sensation of delight through all the ranks of the 
 blessed. And could we bear to think that it did not? 
 Could we bear to think that we were here unnoticed by all 
 but human eyes — that we were isolated, cut off from all the 
 sympathies of the blessed — that nothing was known in 
 iieaven of what is now transacting here? And can they 
 know it without S3rmpathizing with it ? No ; as it har- 
 monizes with the great object of the Saviour's solicitude, it 
 attracts their regards, and secures their intense desires for 
 success. "When the Jewish temple was on the eve of 
 destruction, it is said that mysterious voices were heard to 
 say, "Let us go hence, let us go hence;'' and that ominous 
 sounds of dejoarture were heard. But when a house of God 
 is first opened, and devoted to the ministry of the Gospel, 
 are there not sounds which reach the ear of faith, and say, 
 "Let us enter, let us enter and take possession"? And 
 
COaiPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 255 
 
 l~»atriarclis enter, followed by a long snccession of proi:)liets, 
 apostles, and martyrs, and righteous men — tliey enter to 
 testify afresh, through the ministry oi the Gospel, of the 
 sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow. But 
 above them all a voice is heard announcing, " In receiving 
 my Gospel ye have received me, and still more, ye have 
 received Him that sent me/' " Yes,'' saith God, " this is my 
 rest for ever; here will I dwell, for I have desired it." And 
 having entered, His train filleth the temple. Brethren, com- 
 pared with the occasion which has now brought us together, 
 how insignificant, as viewed from heaven, is the march of an 
 army or the revolution of an empire ! For while that is 
 purely a human affair, except as far as God chooses to turn 
 it to account and to press it into His service, this involves 
 everything dear to the heart of God — purposes which from 
 eternity have been revolved in His mind — the salvation of 
 souls over which He is yearning — the accomplishment of 
 objects to which every perfection of His nature is pledged, 
 and concerning which the Saviour is straitened till they are 
 fulfilled. 
 
 3. But this reminds us, next, that if we truly sympathize 
 with Christ, we shall not be satisfied with merely providing 
 the means of usefulness, or with putting them into action — 
 we shall be deeply anxious to see the end of all such means 
 accomplished. The Saviour was not only straitened till He 
 had reached the cross — till He had provided salvation; all 
 the solicitude which He then felt for the means, He now 
 feels for the end. And is not this the great difference 
 between His merely nominal and His devoted servants — that 
 while the former are content with languidly using the out- 
 ward means, the latter are in solicitude to realize the end? 
 In the one case, the parent, for instance, takes his child to 
 the house of God, but never yearns for its conversion; the 
 Sunday-school teacher instructs his pupils in the Bible, but 
 never prays that it may be made the power of God to their 
 salvation, the minister or missionary preaches the Gospel, 
 
256 CHRIST'S LONGING FOE THE 
 
 but does not long for the sonls of liis hearers. But in the 
 other case, the parent, the teacher, the minister, and the 
 missionary symj)athize with Christ; and hence they "beseech 
 niQii" — they beseech God — they travail in birth again till 
 Christ be formed in those whose welfare they seek. 
 
 4. But this subject reminds us, brethren, finally, that if 
 we truly sympathize with Christ, we shall be conscious of 
 deep humiliation at our past apathy, and of holy impatience 
 and concern to see the designs of His death realized in the 
 salvation of our fellow-men. For, alas, those ends, as far as 
 they have depended on human instrumentality, are still 
 unrealized. The scenes of misery which moved and melted 
 His heart still exist — the guilt which He came to expiate- - 
 the ignorance of God, and the dishonour cast upon His name, 
 which He came to remedy — the salvation of the world — 
 every object which lay beijond the cross, and which induced 
 Him to urge on His progress to the cross, still remains 
 appealing to His compassion, and filling Him with concern. 
 And w]iy ? Oh, Church unworthy of such a Saviour ! Having 
 put all the properties and powers of His own nature into 
 requisition for the redemption of man, He looked to His 
 people to put all their resources into requisition for making 
 that redemption known ; but the only strait, comparatively 
 speaking, Vv^hich they have felt has been how to escape the 
 duty, or entirely to evade the obligation. And still the 
 guilt and wretchedness of the world lie before Him, and fill 
 Him with concern. But who feels v/ith Him ? who sees with 
 His eyes? who is agonized at the sight? No; if He looks 
 at the world, and is affected with the spectacle of its misery, 
 is His concern likely to be allayed by directing His eye to 
 the Church ? is not a large portion of it, at least, in a state 
 in which it is difficult to say whether the Church or the 
 world is most calculated to excite his concern? Oh, Church 
 unworthy of such a Saviour ! And was it for this that He 
 bore down, by a course of unexampled devotedness, the 
 greatest obstacles in the universe — made His way from 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 257 
 
 heaven, througli the ranks of hell, into the midst of the 
 world, and direct to a cross? was it for this He effected an 
 unbroken descent from heights of glory no wing can scale, 
 to de23ths of humiliation no line can fathom? and was it for 
 this He even agonized to reach it? Brethren, we cannot 
 truly sympathize with Christ, without feeling the deepest 
 humiliation at our past apathy, and cherishing a holy impa- 
 tience and concern to see the design of His death realized in 
 the recovery of men to God. 
 
 And ask we for motives to this? Is it nothing that 
 Christ expects it? Is it nothing that He has turned His 
 whole self into a sacrifice, compared with which nothing else 
 deserves the name ? and that He has devolved it on us to 
 multiply as far as we can the copies of His character in our 
 own? But how can a supine, self-indulging Christianity 
 represent a self-denying, self-sacrificing Christ? How can 
 the world learn His benevolence from our selfishness ? How 
 can it know that He was in anguish for its redemption unless 
 we are seen in anguish for its conversion? 
 
 Is it nothing, again, that others have felt this? Yes; 
 the duty is not only obligatory but practicable, for others 
 have felt it. They looked through their tears from the 
 world to the cross, and from the cross to the world again, 
 till they "thus judged, that if one died for all, then were all 
 dead; and that He died for all, that they who live should not 
 henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for 
 them, and rose again ''—they judged that, instead of living 
 as if they were under little or no obligation to Him, they 
 should henceforth act as if the duty of living to Him were 
 the only obligation they were under — and that the best way 
 of doing that would be by conveying the knowledge of His 
 redemption to others, and thus working out the grand pur- 
 poses of His atoning death. The love of Christ constrained 
 them, bore them onwards, made them feel straitened to see 
 those purposes accomplished. And what was there in all 
 this which is not obligatory on us of the j^)resent day? what 
 
 E 
 
258 CHRIST'S LONGING FOR THE 
 
 had the Saviour clone for them, which He lias not equalled 
 and even exceeded for us? 
 
 And should it not urge our languid movements into zeal- 
 ous activity when we reflect that "the time is short''? Was 
 there an hour appointed for the sacrifice of Christ, and did 
 He, as He approached it, burn for its arrival? Yes; so much 
 was depending on that short hour, that he was filled with 
 anguish till it had passed. And is it true that a day is 
 appointed, beyond which there shall not be another moment 
 through all eternity for extending His further saving grace ? 
 Yes; and it may be that we have reached the evening of tlmt 
 day — that we have entered on its closing hours. Can we think, 
 then, how much remains to be yet accomplished — what con- 
 tinents of darkness to be lighted up — ^what moral revolutions 
 to be effected — and can we be content to do less than th-j 
 utmost in our power to eff"ect them? can we feel less than 
 straitened till the grand consummation is achieved ? 
 
 5. And achieved it shall be. How should the prospect 
 quicken our activity and inflame our desire! To think tlir.t 
 the scene of the Saviour's humiliation shall be the scene of 
 His ultimate triumph — that that triumph will be such, that 
 even He will deem it an ample compensation for all His 
 sufferino:s and straits — to think of His leadino^ a recovered 
 and sanctified world into the presence of the Father, as the 
 fruit of His mediation — and of His there unveiling to the 
 eyes of that adoring multitude the vindicated, illustrated, 
 unapproachable glory of God! If the recovery of a single 
 sinner throws all heaven into ecstasy, what will be the trans- 
 ports of that final scene in which shall be celebrated the 
 recovery of a world ? If the homage of heaven brings Him 
 honour, what will the salvation of earth do ? There His 
 glory has never been obscured ; here it has suffered a long 
 and disastrous eclipse. When, therefore, it shall again burst 
 forth with unclouded lustre, well may the blessed, with 
 unwonted emj)hasis, exclaim, " Even earth, the whole earth 
 is fuU of His glory ! " When, in defiance of all the hostility 
 
COMPLETION OF HIS WOEK. 259 
 
 of hell, and all the mighty depravity of man, the empire of 
 grace shall be everywhere trinnij)hant, what honours will be 
 recovered to the blessed God of which He has long been 
 defrauded ! When all things shall be sacred to His name — 
 all hearts reflecting His image — how will the earth echo it 
 to heaven, and heaven re-echo it back again — that even here, 
 at length, " the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth '' — that even 
 " the Idngdoms of tJiis world have become the kingdoms of 
 our Lord and of his Christ ! '" And when it shall be seen 
 distinctly that, from first to last, the recovery of the v/orld 
 was entirely owing, through every stage and every step, to 
 His boundless grace, what ascriptions of honour will the 
 admiring universe pour forth, like the sound of many waters, 
 to God and to the Lamb ! 
 
 Now, that is the scene on which the eye of Christ is fixed 
 — that is the goal at which he is aiming. And can we know 
 that he has constituted His Chm-ch expressly to promote it, 
 and that He is looking to every member of that Church, 
 to every Christian present, to hasten its arrival, without 
 feeling ourselves straitened till it be accomplished ? Oh, 
 talk not of other claims and other causes. Here is a cause 
 on which all the treasures of eternity have been expended; 
 all creation is groaning and travailing in j^ain together for 
 want of it; even now, all the agencies of Providence are 
 urged into unusual activity to hasten it on, and all the voices 
 in heaven and earth are calling upon you to take part in it. 
 Affected by its magnitude and importance — moved by the 
 example of Him whose cause it is — subdued by His love — 
 spnpathizing with Him in the travail of His soul for its com- 
 pletion, you will feel that to throw less than all your energy 
 into it would be an insult to all the momentous interests 
 which it involves. Not only, therefore, will you task yom- 
 own powers in its behalf — you will task them partly in an 
 earnest endeavour to move heaven and earth to join you. 
 
260 CHEIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 SEEMON XI. 
 
 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALESL 
 
 Luke xix. 41, 42— "And when he was come near, he beheld the city, and 
 wept over it, saying. If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this 
 thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid 
 from thine eyes." 
 
 Often had He approaclied Jerusalem before by the same 
 road, and gazed on it from the same spot, and never, we may 
 suppose, had He looked on it but with emotions of unutterable 
 concern: for, oh! Jerusalem was endeared to Him by ties 
 unimagined by man. Now, however. He was approaching it 
 for the last time; and He paused to take a final look. He 
 knew that His entrance within its gates would be the signal 
 for filling up the measure of its guilt; and, therefore, He 
 lingered a moment as if to respite its doom — the Sun of 
 Pdghteousness lingered a moment on Mount Olivet, as if to 
 prolong for it that day of grace made by His own immediate 
 beams. He had before asked for it " another year,'' that He 
 might make on it fresh experiments of mercy ; and now He 
 graciously vouchsafed to it another moment. And as He 
 stood and gazed on it. His mind filled with afi'ecting recollec- 
 tions of the ixtst, the future rose to His proj^hetic eye, crowded 
 with scenes of guilt and woe; while both the past and the 
 future were aggravated by the afflicting thought that all His 
 generous efforts to save it were defeated, and w^ould only 
 serve to enhance its doom. 
 
 1. His comprehensive mind reverted to the pasi; He 
 remembered the days of old, when Israel was holiness to the 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVEE JERUSALEM. 261 
 
 Lord. He could not forget that Judea liad for ages been the 
 ark of religion, where the knowledge of Jehovah had been 
 preserved and cherished, when lost by all the world besides — 
 that it was filled v/ith the mementoes of j^rojohets and miracles 
 — that it had been the birthjDlace of men of whom the world 
 was not worthy — that its joaths had been trodden by angels' 
 feet — that its dust was hallowed, its very soil sacred to God. 
 He thought of the temple, where devotion had for so many 
 ages felt itself nearer heaven — where the bleeding sacrifice 
 had daily testified of human guilt and of Divine placability — 
 where successive generations had communed with God from 
 off the mercy-seat, and multitudes had found the gate of 
 heaven. But these recollections, pleasing in themselves, were 
 embittered by the remembrance of the guilt they necessarily 
 recalled — ages of accumulated guilt. It could not be that a 
 prophet should perish out of Jerusalem. It was saturated 
 with " the blood of all the prophets, down to the blood of 
 Zacharias, son of Barachias, whom they slew between the 
 temple and the altar." And now He knew that it was 
 thirsting for His own blood. Tor more than a thousand 
 years, it had enjoyed the peculiar regards of heaven; yet, with 
 all His compassion for it in Hvely exercise, the benevolent 
 Jesus could not but see that it was the grave of hope, the 
 sejxilchre of all piety. 
 
 For three years now, He himself had come, seeking fruit 
 and finding none. During that period. His preaching and 
 miracles had but this one object — the instruction and salva- 
 tion of its thankless and disobedient peojole. How solemnly 
 had He warned them, how graciously invited them, how 
 anxiously laboured to convince them that He was the hope 
 of Israel, the promised Messiah ! Eor them He had toiled, 
 and travelled, and interceded, and spent Himself in self-con- 
 suming privations. For their sakes He had made himself of 
 no reputation, and had taken on Him the form of a servant. 
 When driven from Jerusalem by persecution, exiled by bitter 
 hate, He carried their welfare with Him in His heart; and 
 
262 CHEIST WEEPING OVEE JERUSALEM. 
 
 soon He returned to tliem again witli a kindness wliicli 
 seemed increased by their ingratitude. They formed the 
 chief object of His tenderest solicitude, the essence of His 
 daily thought. Tor them every pulse of His heart had 
 beaten ; and for them that heart was ready to pour forth its 
 vital blood. He had done everything that could be done for 
 their welfare consistently with His own perfections, and with 
 the liberty of accountable creatures — everything, but in vain. 
 On them the object of His mission seemed entirely lost. He 
 knew that at that moment they were j)assing His destruction 
 into a law. He looked down on the guilty city, and, behold, 
 it resembled a vast caldron filled and fermenting with all 
 infernal passions, of which He was to be the devoted victim. 
 
 2. But with the self-denying love of a patriot and the 
 grace of a Saviour, He looked beyond the spectacle of His 
 oivn sufferings, and fixed His eye ujDon theirs — He could 
 look at them only through an atmosphere of compassion. 
 And, oh, what an appeal to His pity was there ! He pene- 
 trated the future, and beheld it all. Clouds of wrath were 
 gathering over Jerusalem from every quarter of heaven, 
 fraught with materials of destruction such as none but a 
 Divine hand could collect ; His own blood, by which He had 
 gTaciously meant to wash their guilt away, calling, with a 
 voice not to be denied, for the ministers of justice to arm ; 
 all things, on earth and in heaven, musterino: and marshall- 
 ing for their doom. He looked again — and, lo, the city, His 
 city, was beleaguered and lost — Jerusalem lay bleeding at His 
 feet — the harpy nations had taken their prey — her dwellings 
 of holiness were laid waste — and the sound of her expiring 
 lament, drowning even the voice of justice itself, pierced His 
 heart, and drew from Him words in which all His soul came 
 forth — " If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy 
 day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now they 
 are hid from thine eyes.'^ 
 
 8. The exclamation, reorarded as a sentence, is broken and 
 incomplete; but who does not see that it is, in effect, elo- 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVEE JERUSALEM. 263 
 
 quently completed by the tears wliich break it — tears which 
 are the natural language of com2:)assion, and wliich express 
 its intenseness beyond all words ? But He not only thought 
 of the 2:fast, and surveyed the future — He evidently glanced 
 also at a pleasing picture of what the present might have 
 been ; and then the hrealv in the sentence is to be regarded 
 as filled up with a silent reflection on wTiat w^oidd have been 
 the happy results had Jerusalem accepted His mission. " If 
 thou hadst known ! oh, if thou hadst 1 then happy, happy — 
 but, alas, it is only an unsubstantial vision.'' His lino-erino- 
 contemplation of the same blessed possibility is apparenWso 
 in His subsequent exclamation, "0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 
 thou that killest the pro23hets, and stonest them which are sent 
 unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children 
 together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her v/ings, 
 and ye would notT' Had the nation appreciated His charac- 
 ter, had it sympathized with His mission, how diflPerent, we 
 may suppose, His conduct would have been, and how changed 
 the history of His earthly life. The Jewish economy might 
 have died a glorious death, full of days, and full of honours. 
 Instead of entering the temple to denounce and to scourge, 
 He might have gone to explain and apply to Himself its 
 ancient rites; to make knowai the termination of its service; 
 and to pronounce its funeral eulogium in the hearing of the 
 great congregation. Instead of being hated, persecuted, and 
 ignominiously put to death, as the victim of malice — He 
 might have assembled the tribes by proclamation — have 
 lifted up His voice, and explained to their breathless atten- 
 tion the doctrine of the atonement — have opened their under- 
 standing, and disclosed the amazing fact, that the principle of 
 vicarious suffering, which ran through the whole of their 
 economy, was now to terminate and triumph in His own 
 piacular death for man: — and then, amidst the tears and 
 sympathies of the world. He might have ascended Calvary, 
 He might have ascended the altar of sacrifice itself— and there, 
 as our Substitute, He might have been visibly smitten by the 
 
264i CHEIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 immediate sword of justice ; while angels, bending over the 
 mysterious scene, would have pointed each other to His blood, 
 and said, " Behold, how he loved them '/' Instead of retiring 
 into Galilee when He arose from the dead. He might have shewn 
 Himself openly to all the people ; He might once more have 
 entered the temj^le, where " Moses and Elias," as the repre- 
 sentatives of the Jewish Church might have publicly resigned 
 into His hands the trust which that Church had held for the 
 human race; and then, investing Him with the insignia of 
 prophet, priest, and king, might have hailed Him as the hope 
 of Israel, and the surety of the world ! "0 that his people had 
 hearkened unto him, and Israel had walked in his ways 1" 
 
 It is true, the contrary was foreseen ; every step He took 
 was calculated and arranged on the distinct foresight of His 
 rejection ; the wickedness of His enemies was not only fore- 
 seen, it was made use of — it was interwoven into the texture 
 of the Divine plans concerning Him, But His rejection was 
 necessitated only by their own depravity. Had their blinding 
 unbelief permitted them to " know hii^j, they could not have 
 crucified the Lord of glory/' The morn of mercy would have 
 arisen cloudless on the world. He would have made the 
 temple the cradle of Christianity — the rendezvous of piety to 
 aU nations — the sanctuary of the world. Jerasalem should 
 have arisen as a stately palm, towering to heaven, and seen 
 to the ends of the earth — distilling balm for the healing of 
 the nations, and wafting its fragrance as incense through 
 the skies. Eeligion should have built her palaces in its 
 shadow — it should have been the joy of the whole earth. 
 
 How often would He have done this, and more than this, 
 for His beloved Jerusalem ; gathering her children under His 
 fostering care, and making her the abode of heavenly glory ! 
 But, alas ! this was only a vision — as the name Jerusalem 
 imports — a vision of peace; and now that vision was hid 
 from her eyes, and had vanished from His. He would have 
 turned the vision into reality — but she would not — she thrust 
 Him from her. Painful indeed is the situation of the jxatriot 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVER JEEUSALEM. 265 
 
 who is condemned to watcli the exhansted struggles of his 
 country — to behold its liberties and powers one by one 
 exj^ire, till it lies prostrate in corruption, and trodden under 
 foot of the nations. But here was more than a patriot called 
 to mourn over the desolation of his land, and to witness the 
 frustration of his plans for saving it: here was the Friend of 
 sinners, the Lover of human souls, called to contemplate the 
 spiritual perdition of a whole land, and that land the imme- 
 diate scene of His godlike labours. He could not fail to be 
 deeply affected by the prospect of its temporal sufferings ; 
 but what were they compared with its impending spiritual 
 fate ! He knew the whole history of sin — He had seen it in 
 its awful origin, expelling the angels from heaven, and pre- 
 paring for them a hell — His comprehensive mind had all the 
 endless consequences of sin present to His view. And know- 
 ing as He did the awful results of the least sin, what must 
 His emotions of grief and compassion have been, at the sight 
 of a whole nation of human beings, for whose welfare, at any 
 moment, he was ready to become a curse, destroyed by the 
 vials of Almighty displeasure — perishing under a charge of 
 guilt, only inferior in aggravation to the guilt of the angels 
 who kept not their first estate ! Hi; ; benevolent nature re- 
 coiled at the idea ; — He felt as if He could not give them up — 
 could not see them consigned to such irretrievable ruin ; as 
 if, even now, it was not too late to save them ; as if He could 
 almost have saved them even against their wills. We might 
 have supposed that a consideration of their continued aggra- 
 vated guilt had drained all pity from His nature ; but at the 
 sight of that coming woe, a new fountain of compassion opens 
 in His heart, and j^ours itself forth in an unexampled gush 
 of sympathy ; at the prospect of that dreadful scene — that 
 type of the terrors of the judgment day — His whole nature 
 dissolves into compassion ; the surrounding multitude are 
 shouting hosanna, and hailing His entrance into the devoted 
 city — but He heeds it not : His o^vn cross is preparing — but 
 He thinks not of it — He abandons Himself to sympathy — He 
 
266 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 can only ntter an exclamation in wliicli He pours forth the 
 tears of His heart, " Jerusalem, oh, that thou hadst known, 
 even thou, at least in this thy day, the things that belong unto 
 thy jDcace ! — but now they are hid from thine eyes/" 
 
 Pitiable, indeed, must be the state of that mind which can 
 find itself at ease to debate a question of metaphysical divinity 
 in the presence of the Eedeemer's teaTs. Yet there are men 
 whose creed has no place even for His sacred grief ; who are 
 actually annoyed at these tears wej^t over perishing sinners, 
 regarding them as at heterodox variance with the Divine 
 decrees ; who frown at this precious distilment of infinite 
 love as inconsistent with their views of Divine inflexibility. 
 There are those who would rather these tears had never been 
 shed, or that the record of this burst of Divine compassion 
 should be expunged from the sacred page, than that it should 
 remain there as an obstacle to their logical views of the Divine 
 purposes. But we linger over it with delight — we love to 
 remain within the softenino; influence, the hallowed contao^ion, 
 of the Eedeemer's tears — we bless Him for them — ^we regcird 
 tlie melting scene as only inferior in pathos, in tender and 
 solemn grandeur, to Calvary itself 
 
 The compassionate exclamation of Jesus, on this occasion, 
 intimates that the salvation of the Jews would have been 
 far more agreeable to His benevolent nature than their 
 destruction — that, notwithstanding this, there were sufficient 
 reasons why His omnipotence should not interpose to prevent 
 that destruction — that, in one and the same act, justice, awful 
 and unbending justice, may denounce destruction against the 
 sinner, while benevolence sympathizes in his misery, even to 
 tears. When Jesus afterwards turned to the mourning 
 daughters of Jerusalem, as they followed Him to Calvary, 
 and said, " Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and 
 your children,"' He sought by that admonition to impress 
 them with the magnitude of the calamity which awaited 
 them — a calamity so great as to require their undivided grief 
 — a calamity so pregnant with woe, that had all the tears 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 267 
 
 shed from the creation been reserved for that event, had all 
 the universe joined and aided them in the mighty grief, it 
 would not have equalled the gxeatness of the occasion. But 
 His own tears should affect us more deeply with the great- 
 ness of the calamity than the sight of all creation in tcarh 
 To think that Jesus wept — that tears fell from His eyes, the 
 eyes of incarnate perfection — how great must have been the 
 calamity which occasioned them — the calamity of souls lost 
 — immortal natures perishing under the frown of God I And 
 He would encourage us to infer that His nature is still the 
 same — that, making the necessary allowance for the difference 
 between His earthly and His heavenly state. His nature is 
 still the same — that no sinner perishes unpitied, unlamented. 
 He would have the ministers of His Gospel to mingle their 
 appeals and warnings with tears — and to assure the impeni- 
 tent that if they finally perish, they descend into perdition 
 bathed in the tears of His Divine compassion. 
 
 11. 
 
 From this amplification and general interpretation of the 
 text, let us proceed, next, to consider its particular bearmg 
 on ourselves. Let us not suppose that it relates exclusively 
 to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who were its immediate 
 objects. As an event, the exclamation of Christ, and the 
 tears mingled with it, related to the inhabitants of that guilty 
 city; as a record, it is meant for us. By giving to it a place 
 in the evangelical narrative, the Son of God is saying, in 
 effect, to tiie preachers of His Gospel, "Perpetuate the 
 memory of that scene — repeat it in the hearing of your 
 fellow-men — tell them that when My ancient people despised 
 and rejected Me, they yet had My tears— tell them that after 
 all the wi'ongs I had received, when I came near, and beheld 
 the city, I wept over it, and said, 'Oh! that thou hadst 
 known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which 
 belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine 
 eyes'— tell them this— it v/ill give pathos and power to your 
 
268 CHEIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM, 
 
 calls to repentance in My name — it will give liope to tlie 
 penitent, by affording him an insight into the compassion of 
 ]\Iy heart — and many, many will bless the hour when first 
 they heard that I wept over Jerusalem/' 
 
 And think, my friends, there is a sense in which the 
 history of Christ among the Jews may be regarded as a 
 typic or prophetic representation of the reception His Gospel 
 would meet with in every land and every place it might 
 visit. Human nature still numbers among its members its 
 Scribes and its Pharisees, though imder different names ; still 
 retains its proud and persecuting bigots, its hypocritical and 
 inconsistent pretenders to religion, its impenetrable and 
 worldly-minded, its wayward and unstable multitudes — all 
 its original elements of character unchanged. And as Jeru- 
 salem was only an epitome ot the world, so the Gospel is an 
 epitome of the character of Christ ; consequently, name what 
 event you will in the history of Christ, the counterpart of 
 that event is to be found among ourselves. The history of 
 the Gospel among a people is but the life of Jesus rej^eated 
 over ao'ain; repeated, too, not with the omission of its more 
 tragic parts — ^but, alas! with a most minute and faithful 
 repetition of all its most affecting details. Could we learn 
 its history in this place — among those who have worshipped 
 within these walls — we should find that no part of the 
 original tragedy had been omitted through want of persons 
 to sustain its most revolting parts. We should see His 
 rejection enacted again — we should see Him betrayed for 
 money — deserted by His professed disci^^les — delivered into 
 the hands of His enemies — derided and spit upon ; we should 
 behold Him crowned with thorns — and clothed with the 
 mock purple — and led away to be crucified; yea, to complete 
 the representation, we should behold "the Son of God 
 crucified afresh, and put to an open shame.'"' 
 
 Now, if it be so — if the history of the Gospel among a joeople 
 be only the history of Christ among the Jews revived and 
 enacted agahi, we cannot suppose that an incident so 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 2G9 
 
 important as that in the text will be omitted. The coimtcr- 
 part of that is sm^e to be found in the history of every 
 Christian congregation. That tender, touching scene was 
 only a rehearsal of what would take place wherever the 
 Gospel came — of what has been repeated here times without 
 number — of what is transpiring here this evening, at this 
 moment. Come, then, my friends, give activity to your 
 thoughts — imagine, realize the scene — apply it to yourselves. 
 Let this assembly represent Jerusalem ; how often has Jesus 
 of Nazareth been here — here with messages of mercy, offers 
 of salvation, beseeching you to be reconciled to God! Son^e 
 of you — a small number — have been prevailed on to take up 
 your cross, and to follow Him. But for the great majority — 
 alas! for the wavering, the insensibility, the unbelief, the 
 unsubdued though concealed enmity of your hearts! But 
 He has drawn near to you again this evening — and as He 
 came, like the multitude which met Him on His approach 
 to Jerusalem, you sang, "Hosannah, Blessed is he that 
 cometh in the name of the Lord.'' But as you sang, there 
 was no joy in His countenance, no triumph in His eyes, 
 respecting you. How could there be? He thought of the 
 past — ^your past convictions sinned away — past impressions 
 effaced — past opportunities and privileges all lost. He 
 thought of the future — your sick chamber— your unavailing 
 regrets — your last hour — your S23irit disembodied, standing 
 for judgment at the bar of God — and then the awful scenes 
 beyond — all, all were present to His view. He marked how 
 much of your day of grace is gone — saw, perhaps, that the 
 shadows of evening are coming on — the last sands of the last 
 hour runnins: out — the voice of time about to sound tlie 
 knell of departed hope, the loss of yom- soul. And as He 
 took this comprehensive survey, whatever the eyes of others 
 might look at. His eyes fixed, settled in an anxious, yearning, 
 compassionate gaze on your souls. " And as He drew near 
 and beheld you. He wept over you, saying, If thou hadst 
 known, even thou, at least in this thy day the things which 
 
270 CHRIST WEEPING OYER JERUSALEM. 
 
 belong imto thy peace! — but now tliey are bid from thine 
 eyes ! " 
 
 And shall these precious tears, and this gracious lamenta- 
 tion, be lost on you? May the Holy Spirit of Christ so 
 prepare you to receive that brief j)ersonal application of the 
 subject which now remains to be made, that you may be led 
 to return Him tears for tears ! Lift up a prayer to Him that 
 this may be the case — that you may know this day of your 
 visitation. 
 
 1. And, first, my friends, you are to mark that there are 
 things ■which jore-eminently belong to your i^eace. You know 
 this — that sin has ruined you, made you heirs of the bottom- 
 less pit — that there is a pardoning God, an almighty Saviour, 
 a sanctifying Spirit — these are things so familiar to you, as 
 belonging to your peace, that to enlarge on them now is 
 quite unnecessary. You hear of them every Sabbath — you 
 admit that, while other things may be necessary to your 
 health, your worldly reputation, and ease, the knowledge of 
 this is indispensable to your eternal wellbeing — that "it is 
 for your life." God himself keeps up an intercourse with 
 the world solely for the purpose of urging them upon you. 
 And often, when He has been reminding you that they are 
 vital to your peace, your own conscience has instantly 
 replied, " They are so " — has instantly put its seal to the 
 fact, and joined with God in attesting their infinite import- 
 ance. You distinctly see that these Gospel truths are " the 
 great things'' of God — elements of happiness, means of 
 salvation — that the withdi-awment of them would be destruc- 
 tion — that the loss of one of them would be fatal to our 
 hope — that if you are saved, it must be by receiving and 
 acting on them. And it may be that for years there has 
 been floating in your mind a vague intention that you will 
 certainly at some time begin to regard them with the serious- 
 ness their importance deserves. 
 
 2. But while you are thus trifling with these momentous 
 affaii^s, remember, secondly, the period allotted you for 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVEE JERUSALEM. 271 
 
 attending to them is definite and brief — it is here called 
 your day. It deserves this name, you will allow, on account 
 of the light it affords you to work out your salvatioii. The 
 Sun of Righteousness has arisen in your horizon, and how 
 strong and cheering the beams which now fall on the 2:)ath 
 to heaven ! What light has streamed in ui:)on your conscience 
 — how affluent you are made in means of grace — what faci- 
 lities and helj^s are brought near to you— what favourable 
 conjunctures are constantly occurring, and appearing to 
 invite you to surrender to Christ! and how many around 
 you are admonishing you, both by their voice and their 
 example, to work while it is day. 
 
 But the period assigned you is a day especially on account 
 of {^5 brevity, and the certainty of its termination. It is 
 made up of hours and minutes; and, like every other day, 
 it hastens to its close. Noiu, while your pulse is beating — 
 while the blood is circulating through your frame — the day 
 of salvation is wearing away. Noiu, while the hand of time 
 is silently counting out its moments — now, while you are 
 thinking of to-morrow, and are projecting schemes of gain 
 or iDleasure— behold, now, your day of opportunity is fast 
 advancing to a close. Your religious indifference does uot 
 stop it — your apathy does not check it in its flight. It is, 
 at this moment, closing with multitudes — now, now, the 
 things of their peace are hid from their eyes — never will 
 they look on them more. Oh! that awful, that emphatic 
 now! JS^ciu they are hid — a short time ago, a few hours 
 ago, they were not hid — but now they are. Their day has 
 closed, their sun is set — they have had it— they have lost it 
 — and now they are in the act of passing into the presence 
 of Him who gave it to them. A little space longer, and you 
 will follow them. Yes, it will be ouly a rapid succession of 
 hours and minutes, and you will have to look back — but 
 upon what? You will have to look back, not merely on 
 your day of salvation, which you are now neglecting, but 
 upon that terrible moment when it closed — when you stood 
 
272 CHPvIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 at the bar of God — when He laid open the secrets of your 
 life — when you heard His a^vful voice pronounce " depart " 
 — the moment when you first began to date your woe. 
 
 3. And this calls you to reflect, thirdly, that should your 
 day of opportunity close, and leave you unsaved, your guilt 
 will be great, and your condition remediless. How can it be 
 otherwise ? You will, in that case, have forced your way to 
 perdition through a region of salvation — you will have 
 penetrated into the land of woe, while carrying a lamp 
 lighted at the altar of heaven in your hand. You will have 
 fallen into the jaws of destruction, by extricating yourself out 
 of the grasp of Divine compassion. What a pitiable spec- 
 tacle will you present ! An intelligent and immortal being 
 benighted at noonday — surrounding himself with thick 
 darkness in the midst of the clearest light — stumbling into 
 perdition, while yet it is broad day, the day of salvation. 
 And not only so, not only lost in spite of all the means of 
 recovery, but lost hy them — turning that which was meant 
 to be a savour of life into an element of condemnation — a 
 Saviour present, and you yet lost — exhorted by Him, en- 
 treated, and yet lost — wept over, and yet lost — followed by 
 Him, even to the mouth of the bottomless pit, and yet lost 
 — followed by His tears while descending, going doAvn into 
 it, but yet lost ! 
 
 4. Now, fourthly, this is a spectacle calling for the pro- 
 foundest lamentation. Little as at j^resent it may affect you; 
 " it is a lamentation, and shall be for a lamentation.'" There 
 is in it a mystery of guilt, which none but God can fathom 
 — there is involved in it an eternity of sorrow. The period 
 will come when you yourself will begin that sorrow; mean- 
 while, Jesus weeps, and He calls on all His people to join 
 with Him in lamenting your forlorn condition. Christians, 
 your Saviour calls on you to unite with Him in a lamentation, 
 to mingle your tears with His over your jDcrishing fellow- 
 hearers — they are with you in the same seats, sitting by your 
 side — but His tears tell you they are perishing. Join Him 
 
CHEIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 273 
 
 in the grief — let Him not weep alone — it is a tender, solemn, 
 mighty grief — if they luill perish, let them not perish 
 milamented — if they luill precipitate themselves into the 
 gulf of perdition, follow them to the brink — let them have, 
 to the last, your commiseration, your teiirs. 
 
 5. But, fiftlily, let them behold in the tears of Jesus a proof 
 of His unextinguished compassion for them, and an induce- 
 ment to apply to Him at once for salvation. Say not, my 
 friends, say not that your day of hope has closed in darkness. 
 If you really fear it, we can assure you that there is hope for 
 you in that very fear. 
 
 In order to rekindle and animate that hope, shall I remind 
 you of the grace of the Saviour's conduct towards the guilty 
 city — the grace which He shewed it, even after He had 
 wept over it in the text, and had apparently abandoned it to 
 its doom ? Could you have supposed it ? They had filled 
 .up the measure of their sins by shedding His blood — 
 yet no sooner had He arisen from the dead, than "He 
 commanded his disciples that repentance and remission of 
 sins should be preached in his name among all nations, 
 heginning at Jerusalem/' Could tears have washed away 
 the crimson guilt of its inhabitants, they would now have 
 needed no remission; for over them the Man of sorrows 
 had dissolved into grief Could kindness have melted or 
 moved them, they woukl not now have needed an exliortation 
 to repentance ; for His last anguish on the cross included a 
 pang of compassion for them — and for them He had saved 
 His latest breath to pray, "Father, forgive them; for they 
 know not what they do." Yet now, no sooner does He find 
 Himself in a capacity to bless, than He exercises His preroga- 
 tive in blessing them. AVe might almost as soon have 
 expected that He would have sent His Gospel to be pro- 
 claimed over the mouth of perdition, as to Jerusalem, that 
 hell of earth. At least, we should have expected to see it 
 makino- the circuit of the earth, before it came there — to 
 . hear Him direct His disciples to wait till His immediate 
 
 s 
 
274 CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 
 
 enemies had clescended to the grave — to visit Jerusalem last. 
 But His thoughts are not as our thoughts — the course of His 
 grace admits not of human calculation — He sends them to 
 Jerusalem first. "While the eyes of His enemies are yet 
 gleaming with the fire of triumphant revenge, He commis- 
 sions His apostles to hasten and open the charter of redemp- 
 tion within sight of Calvary; to let them know that, whatever 
 they might have drawn from His heart, His love for them 
 remains there still; to assure them there is one mode of 
 inflicting on Him greater pain than even that of employing 
 the cross — by obstinately refusing the blessings which His 
 cross has procured. 
 
 Brethren, behold in this instance of unexampled grace an 
 emblem of His comj)assionate concern for you. As if you 
 had never trifled with His Gospel — never rejected His great 
 salvation; as if He had forgotten all that has past — He 
 this evening offers you repentance and the remission of sins. 
 Will you not stretch forth the hand to receive them? He is 
 at this moment standing before you with the hoarded love of 
 eternity in His heart, off*ering to make you the heirs of all 
 its wealth : nor is it in your power to grieve Him more than 
 by disregarding the gracious overture. His eye at this 
 moment is fixed on you — marking with gracious solicitude 
 the emotions and fluctuations of your breast — watching 
 what your decision is likely to be. Will you not return Him 
 look for look — looks of contrition for his looks of love ? He 
 is uttering over you the lamentation, " Oh, that thou hadst 
 knoTvai the things which belong unto thy peace ! — but now,'' 
 — shall He finish the sentence? — shall He add the awful 
 remainder ? — will you not entreat Him to pause — to forbear 
 pronouncing them hid from your eyes ? He tuould pause — 
 He would lengthen out your day of grace. 
 
 Only do not any longer trifle — no longer delay. He fears 
 nothing but your neglect — deprecates nothing but your 
 inattention. He draws a line across your path, and demands 
 that before you cross it you will come to a decision about 
 
CHRIST WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 275 
 
 your soul's salvation. He now draws around you a small 
 circle of time, and He demands, He entreats you, that this 
 evening, before you come out of it, you will end your delay, 
 and fall at His feet. And will you not yield to His entreaties 
 — His tears? Before this night closes shall He not see you a 
 suj)pliant for mercy — shall He not hear you saying, " Tarn 
 me, Lord, and I shall be turned — save, Lord, or I 
 perish''? 
 
 Oh, did you know the unutterable interest which He takes 
 in every serious emotion of your soul — every symptom of 
 penitence — you would flee to Him at once — you would give 
 Him your heart ! The first look you direct to Him will not 
 escape His notice — the first step you take towards Him would 
 bring Him more than a step towards you. All things are 
 ready for your reception — He v/ill meet your weakness with 
 His almighty strength — your emptiness and poverty with His 
 inexhaustable fulness. He would rejoice over you with sing- 
 ing; He would rest in His love; He would proclaim a jubilee 
 in heaven, and call the universe to share His joy. 
 
276 THE EEDEEMER CONTEMPLATIXa 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 THE EEDEEMER CONTEMPLATING HIS HOUR AS COSIR 
 
 JOIIN xii. 27 — " Now is my soul trou])led ; and what shall I say? Father, 
 save me from this hour: But for this cause came I unto this 
 HOUR. Father, glorify thy name," 
 
 There is, I believe, a principle of universal capplication 
 underlying this great utterance — the principle that there is 
 an hour in the history of every intelligent being for which 
 every previous hour of his life is a designed and continuous 
 opportunity of preparation. And the practical application 
 of the principle seems to be this: that the nature and 
 responsibilities of this hour should be ascertained — that its 
 coming should be provided for — that its conscious approach 
 and arrival would bring with it a deep consecrating sense of 
 responsibility — and that on our meeting and discharging tlie 
 responsibilities of such an hour may be susj^ended conse- 
 quences of unknown magnitude. 
 
 Now, this application is so appropriate, and so fruitful of 
 suggestion for an occasion like the present, that I should 
 proceed to it at once, had the principle itself come out in tlie 
 ordinary teaching of Scripture — in the mere teaching of 
 even Christ himself But in this utterance, He is actinrj and 
 suffering, rather than speaking. He has ceased to be the 
 mere prophet or teacher, and has put on His priestly attire. 
 He speaks not so much to earth as to heaven. His words 
 are for the ear of God. It is as if He had gone back, in 
 spirit, and for a moment, to the bosom of the Father. He 
 
HIS HOUE AS COME. 277 
 
 does not so miicli state the principle as embody it, snfFer it, 
 become it. His whole natm^e comes out in it like incense — 
 a sacrificial exhalation. For us, who believe that He is ''the 
 Lamb slain from the foundation of the world'' — that the 
 unfolding of the whole scheme of mercy was made to depend 
 on the foresight of that hour ; for us, He has both made the 
 principle, and made us for it — made it possible for us to take 
 it up into our own nature, and to make our life an exposition 
 of it. 
 
 Let us look first, then, at the deep unique significance of 
 the language as it came from the lips of the Son of God. 
 
 1. It may be proper that we should glance, first, at the 
 nature of this hour. V/hat was about to take place? and 
 why was it to occur noiu ? If wisdom is distinguished from 
 folly by acting on a plan— if " God only wise " acts according 
 to a scheme in which every event has its permitted or its 
 appointed time and place — and if there be some one event 
 of transcendent interest, it is to be expected that for that 
 event, pre-eminently, an hour will be appointed, which nothing 
 will be permitted to hasten, nothing to delay. Such was the 
 event about to take place. Man from the first had been 
 placed under a system of righteous moral government ; and 
 from the first he had occupied himself chiefly in resisting 
 that government, and in attempting to ward ofi" the ruinous 
 results. And now, " God manifest in the flesh " was about 
 to set before the universe His own practical estimate of the 
 reasonableness of that government, and, consequently, of the 
 unreasonableness and wickedness of man's rebellion ao-ainst 
 it. But would not this be a display of love unparalleled? 
 This was the very heart of the design. The vindication of 
 the Divine government required the actual incarnation of a 
 Divine person — required from Him a life of obedience, ter- 
 minating in a crisis which we, who are standing outside the 
 mystery, and see only some of the signs, call death, and of 
 
278 THE EEDEEIMER CONTEMPLATING 
 
 which crucifixion was one of the signs — a crisis of the stress 
 of which all sacrificial blood, and all martyr j)angs in one, 
 would only sujiply a hint — a crisis of which the unfathomable 
 deeps could not be made visible or utterable — and, therefore, 
 a crisis the endurance of which could only be accounted for 
 as the outbursting of a long pent-up ocean of the love of 
 God — love larger than all law, deeper than all misery — 
 love that could fill up and overflow all laws and all hearts, 
 and bear both on its tide into the presence of God. And 
 the reason why this crisis had come noiu — at least, the 
 one reason with which lue have to do — was, that the state 
 of the world itself had reached a crisis. Man himself was 
 without strength — had exhausted his last expedient to do 
 without God — and was fast collapsing — sinking into a 
 condition in which the Divine remedy itself would be in 
 danger of failure. "Known unto God are all his works 
 from the beoinningj of the world.'' And now had arrived 
 the time for God's great work. Time, from the beginning, 
 had been set to it. The world had been spared for this 
 hour. And now, as its last sands were running oiit, "For 
 this cause,"' said Christ — to meet the crisis — " am I come to 
 this hour." 
 
 2. Can we wonder then, next, at His awful and mysterious 
 agitation in the near pros2)ect of that hour, and of all that 
 was dependent on it? On this profound subject I will only 
 say, that even with my poor human conceptions of that hour, 
 I can much more easily account to myself for the presence 
 of such agitation, than I should have been able to account for 
 its absence. Oh ! who has not felt at one time or another 
 the burden of an unfinished work? Who that has found 
 himself pledged to a great undertaking, with weighty inte- 
 rests de2:)ending on its completion, formidable obstacles 
 impeding that completion, and with -unnumbered eyes fixed 
 on him in ardent expectation — who, under such circum- 
 stances, has not known what is meant by anxious days and 
 sleepless nights ? Undertakings there have been so compli- 
 
HIS HOUR AS COME. 279 
 
 cated and weighty, that the parties concerned, though fully 
 alive to theii- excellence, have gradually sunk under the 
 responsibility, till reason has fled, or life itself has been 
 pressed out. And yet all these together, when compared 
 with the crisis of that hour, were only as a feather compared 
 with the weight of the material universe. 
 
 But of all the anxious moments belonging to an unfinished 
 work, who does not know that those endured on the eve of 
 its completion are the most trying — that they grow in inte- 
 rest as they draw to an end, till the interest of the whole 
 
 affair seems crowded and compressed into the last moment 
 
 every incident that occurs is interpreted into a token of 
 success or of failure, and we feel incapacitated for everythino- 
 — painfidly straitened till it is accomplished? AYas it to be 
 wondered at, then, that our Lord should have felt this, now 
 that the great work of redemption had reached the very eve 
 of its completion ? There was a time when that work was 
 indefinitely distant ; and even then He felt it in all its 
 imposing magnitude. But that distance of thousands of 
 years had gradually dwindled to centimes — and those centu- 
 ries of years to tens— and those years to months— and those 
 months to weeks— and those weeks to days — and those days 
 to hours— till now, lifting up His eyes to heaven, he could ' 
 say, "Father, the hour is come!'' 
 
 3. What, then, was the grand consideration which induced 
 Him to meet that hour in the face of all oj^posing motives ? 
 The fact that all the past had existed in order to it, and would 
 be summed up in it, to the glory of God. For here we are 
 taught the great truth, that our Lord's death is not to be 
 viewed as an isolated event — standing apart from all that 
 went before — but as the culmination and completion of the 
 whole. And the subject of the awful soliloquy in the text 
 is — Shall the great God-work, of which the cross would form 
 the completion, be left incomplete, on account of the surpris- 
 ing intensity of that crisis ? True, it would bring on the 
 great conflict vrith the powers of evil. An invisible foe 
 
280 t THE EEDEEMER CONTEMPLATING 
 
 already confronted Him. A crowded field, impalpable to 
 human eye, was gathering around Him. He who had ever 
 been saying, " Let there be light," was now to come into 
 collision with him who had ever been saying, " Let there be 
 darkness '' — for " this was their hour, and the j^ower of dark- 
 ness."" But for this cause, especially for this moral encoun- 
 ter, He is here; and shall all His previous triumphs end in 
 present defeat ? No, said He, as He girded himself for the 
 onset — " Now shall the prince of this world be cast out : 
 and I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto 
 me. Father, glorify thy name!'' True, again, the act of 
 obedience noiu required at His hands, exceeds every j^revious 
 act — for it is " obedience unto death.'' But for this cause 
 He has passed through all those j^revious acts, training Him- 
 self for it — " learning obedience by the things which He 
 suffered " — qualifying Himself to become one vast capacity 
 for suffering, an organized sacrifice; and shall He neutralize 
 (thus reasoned His Divine spirit of self-sacrifice), shall He 
 dissipate all the j^ast, by declining the last, the crowning 
 act ? " Father, glorify thy name." 
 
 True, aoain, he was now standino; face to face with the 
 Cross. But when had He not been bearing a cross? From the 
 moment of man's fall — the moral world, whatever the shape of 
 the material — the moral world had never worn for Him any 
 other form than that of a cross, and He had borne it. " 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem," said He, " how often would I have 
 gathered thee ! " And how often, while bearing that moral 
 cross, had he pointed the finger of j^ioj^hacy to this hour. 
 And for this cause had He now come to it, that He might 
 openly, before all w^orlds, vindicate that government which 
 man had occupied himself chiefly in resisting, vindicate it by 
 rendering to it the homage of His own self-sacrifice. " Father, 
 glorify thy name ! " 
 
 And true, also, if man is ever to see the i^ang and the 
 travail of infinite love, this last great sacrifice must be made. 
 How else, tell me, in what other way, can I know the infini- 
 
HIS HOUE AS COME. 281 
 
 tucle of His love ? Mere pardon would not prove it. Easy, 
 unboiiglit, indulgent forgiveness may only prove that He 
 thinks little of sin, of the authority of law, or of the claims 
 of justice. But the time might come* the occasion might 
 arise in the history of the universe, when He might cease to 
 pardon thus. The wellbeing of His government might 
 require Him to act up to the claims of law— to pardon only 
 on the condition of an adequate moral compensation. But 
 here such an hour has actually come — here, and now,. the 
 dreaded crisis has come— come as the condition of all for- 
 giveness—and the question is, Will His love prove equal to 
 it? Other sacrifices it may make, other tests and trials it 
 may survive ; but it it will not endure the stress of this, it 
 is not, after all, unlimited — its limits are ascertained. 
 
 "What then,'' some one may say; "was there really an 
 hour in which the redeeming purpose was in suspense ? AVas 
 there a moment in which the great question of redemption 
 trembled in the balance ? What! and when the great work 
 was so near completion ? " What ! I ask in reply; and do 
 you forget that we are speaking of sacrifice ? You surely do 
 not suppose that all the reasons were on the side of making 
 it. That would do away with the very idea of sacrifice. Do 
 you remember luJio is to be the sacrifice ? Do you remember 
 that it is to be such a sacrifice as is to settle the question 
 once and for ever that God is love? Why, it is to be so vast 
 a proof, that if the Saviour has had to train Himself for the 
 hour. He has had also to train and enlarge the human mind 
 to expect and to comprehend it. The magnitude of creation 
 was meant to prepare me for something greater still in re- 
 demption. In the wonders of the one I only see Him make 
 bare His arm ; what may I not expect, then, when He shaU 
 lay bare His heart! For this cause I see Him first put on 
 my human nature— become a man ; and /or this cause I now 
 see Him stand within sight of the cross, prepared to prove 
 in His own person the infinite love of God ! 
 
 And can you wonder, I repeat, that He should have been 
 
282 THE EEDEEMER CONTEMPLATING 
 
 heard to say, " Now is my soul troubled"? Why, nature was 
 troubled. Creation trembled. All the interests of time were 
 at stake. Every lover of mercy was there, every minister of 
 Divine justice, every friend of man. He saw that there was not 
 an eye which was not fixed on Him — not a law which did not 
 look to Him ; felt that there was not a princij^le which was 
 not resting on Him entirely for support. And " now," said 
 He, with all the Divine caj)abilities of His nature in stress, 
 " now is my soul troubled." The vastness of the crisis rose 
 up before Him. Reasons the most profound urge themselves 
 why it should be allowed to pass. If love be not stronger 
 than all, it will 2^'^ss. If the heart of God be not larger than 
 all law, it will pass, and man perish. Now, now, if the love 
 of God for man is not infinite, the cords of the sacrifice will 
 be severed, and the victim go free. " Now is my soul 
 troubled, a n d what shall I say .? " Oh ! if ever there was silence 
 in heaven, if ever the universe was hushed, was it not then to 
 hear what he would say ? Imagine the answer delayed — the 
 pause prolonged. But no ; the reply was ready, " For this 
 cause came I to this hour : Father, glorify thy name 1 " In 
 that prayer all the preparations, feelings, desires, and pur- 
 l^oses of the past were collected and concentrated — it was the 
 embodiment of all law, and the expression of all love. 
 " Father, glorify thy name " — at that utterance a burden fell 
 from the minds of the blessed, the universe breathed more 
 freely. The cup does not pass. Love triumphs. Beyond 
 this He cannot go ; even He cannot go. " Herein is love " 
 — the love of His heart, the heart of His love. In proving 
 Himself equal to that crisis. He has proved Himself equal to 
 every crisis that can arise. No extreme moee stupendous 
 than this can be encountered in the history of the universe. 
 " For this cause," said He, " came I to this hour : " and it 
 was because He luas there, and because He accej)ted that 
 hour with all its Godlike responsibilities, that we are here at 
 this hour — that the world may be saved, as far as He is con- 
 cerned, at any hour — that all the hours ol eternal blessedness 
 
HIS HOUE AS COME. 283 
 
 await us — and that heaven at this hour is overflowing with 
 the strain, " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain ! '' 
 
 II. 
 
 1. Now, though that hour stands alone in the world's his- 
 tory, there was, first, I repeat, a great principle underlying it 
 of universal application — the principle that there is an hour or 
 period in the life of every man, every Christian, every Church, 
 every community of Churches, for which every previous hour 
 is a designed means of preparation. The hour was media- 
 torial, and therefore unique — the princijjle is moral, and there- 
 fore universal. Every human being is responsible, at every 
 moment of his existence, for such an amount of excellence 
 and such a capacity for usefulness as he would have acquired 
 had he cultivated his moral nature to the utmost throuoh 
 every previous moment of his being. Christ came not to 
 exempt us from this principle, but to gather up and expiate 
 the guilt of our violation of it, and so to put us once more in 
 the way of obeying it from loftier motives. According to 
 the ideal of the Divine government, every age of the world, 
 and therefore every member of every age, is bound to regard, 
 not only every hour of his own life, but of all historic time, 
 as the means of his own preparation and progress. Is not 
 this the meaning of such passages as this — " That upon you 
 may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from 
 the blood of righteous Abel. Verily I say unto you, all these 
 things shall come upon this generation''? Why? Not that 
 the earlier generations were not guilty and punishable in 
 their degree, but that each generation, as it comes on the 
 stage of life, and finds itself surrounded with evil, brings 
 with it means for reducing that evil, and is held respon- 
 sible for employing them to the utmost. That is its hour. 
 If, however, it lifts no protest, organizes no remedial force, 
 then it is regarded as accepting that evil, adopting it, making- 
 it all its own,' with the further guilt of adding its own signa- 
 tm^e and sanction, and so reinforcino- it for all the future. 
 
284} THE EEDEEMEE CONTEMPLATING 
 
 Is not tliis, too, the force of tlie grand appeal, "Ye are 
 come unto Llonnt Sion, and unto the city of the living God, 
 the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of 
 angels; to the general assembly and church of the first-born 
 enrolled in heaven''? And as the apostle proceeds with his 
 inventory of the Church's moral wealth, we are to remember 
 that it is the piled-up result of ages of accumulation. Even 
 the Jewish Church was always becoming richer. But we are 
 heirs of the v/hole. We come into the entire j)roperty. "We 
 have come to Jesus the mediator oi the new covenant, and to 
 the blood of sprinkling." A life was wanting which should 
 gather up all these scattered influences of the past, concen- 
 trate them in an embodied form, make them an incarnate 
 fact. This Christ did in that hoiu^ — baptizing the princi^Dle 
 in His blood — augmenting its power beyond all computation. 
 Calvary itself is but Sinai transfigured — law changed into 
 love, and so become more binding. By the crisis of that 
 hour He has given a new aspect to life and its uses. That 
 hour, so far from discharging us from service and suff'ering 
 for man's recovery — that hour collected, not merely all the 
 holy influences of the past, but all the rays of the Sun of 
 Eighteousness into one burning focus of love, to be ever after 
 held over the heart of the Church, kindling and inflaming it 
 with ardour for the world's salvation. True; the world's 
 redeinption required the cross; but not less true is it. that its 
 salvation involves for each Christian a cross — cannot be 
 eff'ected without. This is the very law of Christian disciple- 
 ship — "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, 
 and take up his cross and follow me." Brethren, it was not 
 meant that our Lord's hour should end with Himself It 
 was not meant that His life and character should be separated 
 from ours by a great cliasm — a vast abyss; His all deeds, 
 and om-s all professions; His all sacrifice, all Ceoss — and 
 ours all ease and indulgence. It is not enough for the 
 Church to glory in the cross as the symbol of its own salva- 
 tion. Is it taking up its own cross in the work of saving 
 
HIS HOUE AS COISIE. 285 
 
 others? Hcas it any cross of its owa^ Is it really and truly 
 a Church militant — a Church confronting the world like an 
 army facing the foe? 
 
 2. Seasons of special service and sacrifice, secondly, have 
 actually occurred, and are recorded in the history of the 
 Church. I might go back to one of the earliest events that 
 befell "the Church in the wilderness/' As early as the 
 second year of their wanderings, they are brought up to the 
 edge of the promised land. Will they not enter at once and 
 take possession? For this cause they have been brought to 
 this place, and to this hour ; and have been trained for it by 
 miracle. But the spies bring back a disheartening report; 
 the people prove recreant to the great occasion; and their 
 doom is, that the desert shall prove their grave, and thirty- 
 eight years of wandering for their children. I believe the 
 whole of Israel's history to possess a symbolic value ; and I 
 believe that the Christian Church has been brought up to the 
 edge of many a promised land, and that it had had a training 
 which should have prepared it for crossing; but that, wanting 
 in the faith, the fortitude, the Christian heroism necessary for 
 the hour, the opportunity was lost, and many a forty years' 
 wandering, desert life Vv^as the result. 
 
 "Coming to the New Testament, I might derive examples 
 from the Acts of the Apostles, and tvarmngs from the seven 
 Asiatic Churches. And is there nothing to be learned to the 
 same effect from the history of the Reformation? Why was 
 it that that mighty j^rocess stopped — stopped, as if a tide in 
 the height of its roll and rush shoidd be suddenly smitten 
 into marble? The work of the Church at such a time is 
 twofold — internal purification and external aggression. The 
 Christianity of that day concerned itself only with the former 
 — its OTvm purification ; the hour for aggression was allowed 
 to pass by unimproved ; and, in just retribution, the Church 
 was itself soon smitten with paralysis and spiritual death. 
 
 In our own land, the time for another Preformation came. 
 A Wesley, a Whitfield, and a band of apostolic men went 
 
286 THE EEDEEMEE CONTEMPLATING 
 
 everywhere, calling the world to repent, and the Church to 
 awake and to do her first works. And you know what trials 
 — what "deaths oft'' they endured in fulfilling their Divine 
 commission. That was their hour. What if they had shrunk 
 from it? What if they had allowed their bitter cup to 
 pass? Humanly speaking, the Church in this land would 
 still have been slumbering on — would have died in its sleep. 
 
 Then came the hour for the great missionary movement. 
 It was an hour that demanded qualities of the highest order 
 — deep dependence on God — heroic indifference to the 
 world's ridicule, ay, and to the timidity and unbelief of 
 parts of the Church itself — and a high, enterprising, self- 
 denying faith. But if you look into the times immediately 
 prior, you will find that numerous influences had been at 
 work in the nation as v/ell as in the Church, training us 
 specifically for that hour. But what if our Christian fathers 
 had evaded its responsibihties ? What if the clouds which hung 
 black and threatening over the missionary field had deterred 
 them from entering on its cultivation? What would — what 
 could have been our condition at this moment? Why, those 
 clouds which have now discharged themselves in fruitful 
 showers would have burst on us in blasting and mildew. 
 
 Now, I suppose, brethren, that this is the principle on 
 which the history of every Christian denomination is written 
 in heaven. Each community has its own providential train- 
 ing. Each has its OAvn resources, characteristics, aptitudes. 
 And then each has its own opportunities — ^not only those 
 more general oj^portunities which it may have in common 
 with others — but its sj)ecial calls to duty. These are its 
 hours — its tests and turning points — calling frequently for 
 unusual effort and faith, and even sacrifice. And I sui^pose 
 its history in heaven is very much the history of its conduct 
 in relation to these hours. Could our different communities 
 be content to be judged by the way in which, thus far, they 
 have met such hours? 
 
 3. The example of Christ in the text teaches, thirdly, that 
 
HIS HOUE AS COME. 287 
 
 such times of effort, trial, and sacrifice should be expected, 
 prepared for, and ascertained.- " He that hath an ear to hear, 
 let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.'' The 
 Spirit is always speaking to the Churches ; but if their ears 
 come to be filled with other sounds, His voice will pass 
 unheard. Had Paul been sinking into self-indulgence at the 
 time, he would have had no vision of a man of Macedonia 
 crying for help. Had the Church at Antioch been self- 
 satisfied and worldly, the Spirit might have said once and 
 again, "Separate me Paul and Barnabas " — there would have 
 been no ears to hear. And ought not the Christian commu- 
 nity noiu, which has no visions, no calls, no marked hours, to 
 be restless and uneasy ? What, none in a world still perishing 
 ■ — in a world in which the heathen jyurt of the population 
 increases more rapidly than our rate of overtaking them — in 
 which the number of the perishing is greater noiu than it ever 
 has been. "0 righteous Pather, the world doth not yet know 
 thee I" blessed Saviour, the Church doth not yet know thee ! 
 Why, the call to duty is louder than ever. I believe that 
 any Church truly alive to its Divine vocation would have all 
 kinds of duty put on it — all kinds of hours awaiting it ; 
 would see that all its past history was a training for the 
 present — went for nothing except as it bore on the present; 
 would feel that all its reputation for past self-sacrifice and 
 zeal, so far from being a discharge from similar duty, is a call 
 to yet greater. 
 
 4. The text reminds us, further, that the due apprehension 
 of our hour would invest us with a consecrating sense of 
 responsibility. Conscious responsibihty of any kind dignifies 
 character. A mere political crisis, by compelling even vicious 
 men to identify themselves with great designs, has often 
 rescued them for a time from their degradation, and given 
 them nobility. They have caught a kind of grandeur of 
 character from their position. 
 
 But away with mere shadows and surfaces. Here are 
 essences, sublime, imperishable, and eternal. Here, the 
 
288 THE EEDEEMEE CONTEMPLATING 
 
 recovery of a world is entailed ; and we are summoned to 
 share the greatness of the task. Here is an object which has 
 made a Saviour — which has develoj^ed new features in the 
 character of the blessed God — and we are actually called to 
 prosecute His world-wide everlasting design. Identifying 
 ourselves with this object, v/e enter into fellowshij) with all 
 the real greatness the world has ever known. We are 
 encomj^assed by a great cloud of witnesses. We pass to our 
 work throuf^-h their bendinoj ranks. Are we aware that in 
 God's great scheme of Christian agency, a distinct post is 
 assigned us, and a talent intrusted to us ? Is it possible 
 that any Christian j^resent could thoughtfully reflect that he 
 has been converted, trained, anointed, brought to this day as 
 an agent for Christ — that his short hour of Christian activity 
 looks back to, and derives all its meaning and value from that 
 great hour of Christ — and that he is left here for a brief 
 space to let the world, ay, and to let the Church see his 
 estimate of that hour, of the love which it expressed, of his 
 own indebtedness to it, of its world- embracing compassion; 
 can any one present, I say, believe this, without feeling that 
 all his powers are due — his whole nature put in requisition ? 
 And yet this deep consecrating sense, with here and there an 
 exception, is the very element in which we are wanting. 
 
 How consecrating the thought! You are summoned to 
 pervade an indefinite circle with the influence that saves. 
 How ennobling the inspiration! You can stamp your 
 Christian impress on the imperishable interests of your race. 
 You have been set down by the hand of God in the midst of 
 the myriads of immortal men now teeming around you, 
 expressly that you may so affect them. Rise, then, to the 
 height of your calling. Your allies are great. You move in 
 a line with law, prophecy, and the great purposes of God. 
 There is nothing great which will not helj), and bless, and 
 join you. Your friends are exultations, prayers, agonies. 
 Your scene of labour is a Calvary. He, your Lord, has 
 purchased it. His hloocl is on it — His blood, the true seed 
 
HIS HOUR AS COIME. 289 
 
 of the Cliiirch. His cross lias stood on it. His lieart is 
 bound uj) vvath it. ''For this cause came He to that 
 wondrous hour'' to which you owe your hope of heaven, 
 that you might have your hour of deep consecration to His 
 service. 
 
 5. The subject reminds us, further, that on our discharge 
 of impending responsibilities may be suspended consequences 
 of unknown magnitude. As I cannot be supposed to bring 
 any duty of ours into comparison with the work of Christ, 
 neither can I be supposed to mean that God h necessarily 
 dependent on any agency of ours. Let the Church decline 
 its work, and "I say unto you, that God is able of these 
 stones to raise up " willing servants. Eather than that His 
 designs of grace shall fail, all nature should be set in motion 
 — every spring of Providence be touched — new forces start 
 into activity. 
 
 But I speak of the fact, that God has been pleased to 
 make the Christian Church the medium of His grace to the 
 world ; and of the laiu, that as is our agency, so is our useful- 
 ness. How much, then, may depend, I repeat, on the way in 
 which we meet impending responsibilities? Look over the 
 wide scene of present missionary labour — on the character of 
 our Christian zeal at home may depend the measure of our 
 success abroad. The influence we are now j^i-itting into 
 circulation will not stay at home — will not even die with us. 
 It is our legacy to posterity — it will reach to those we never 
 saw, and descend to other times. Yes ; traces of our character 
 will appear ages hence — in the churches of India and Africa, 
 China and Japan. We are giving Christianity to posterity; 
 what kind of a Christianity shall it be — a languid, feeble, 
 spiritless thing, or a life and a power? 
 
 Look, again, at the vast field awaiting our cultivation — at 
 its moral wastes, and sands, and swamps, and jungles, and 
 dreary wilds. Mourn not for the ground. Wail not for the 
 land. It is of mind we speak. The desolation is of the 
 sjmHt. The bhghted regions are of immortal souls. Oh, the 
 
 T 
 
290 THE REDEEMER CONTEMPLATING 
 
 swarming tracts, the depths of continents, never fanned by a 
 breath from heaven ! " They are destroyed from morning to 
 evening ; they perish for ever without any regarding it/' Who 
 is not tempted to cry out at the sight, " Thou, with whom 
 is the power, arrest their increase ! Stay the multijob* cation 
 of human life ! Forbid the onward flow of existence ! It 
 were better for these myriad myriads had they never been 
 born!"" But no; the prayer suited to the occasion is j^re- 
 pared. "Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the 
 sides pour "down righteousness; let the earth open, and let 
 them bring forth salvation ; and let righteousness spring forth 
 together/' But so large-hearted a prayer requires the use of 
 means correspondingly large; and on the character of our 
 Christian zeal it may depend, under God, whether the prayer 
 shall be answered in our day, or be deferred for ages. For 
 this cause have we come to this hour — come to it with all 
 our ripened missionary experience — all our knowledge of the 
 world's crying wants — all our providential resources — and 
 with our deep avowed conviction that there is nothing in 
 God to prevent nation after nation being born in a day — that, 
 in a sense, He is waiting for us, urging us, upbraiding us 
 with delay. 
 
 Or look, again — look back to that wondrous hour which is 
 for us both redemption and example. But for that hour, 
 Vv^hat should we have known of the infinite love of God ? 
 The great ocean would — must have remained for ever shut 
 up and concealed. That hour was its only adequate outlet 
 and channel. So much of God, if I may so say, was com- 
 j)ressed into that hour, that to express and represent it to 
 the world required the consecration of myriads of human 
 hearts and lives for ages and generations. Are tve represent- 
 ing or misrepresenting it ? Every great principle seeks to 
 become a power, and to organize for itself the means of its 
 manifestation and diffusion. The principle of that hour 
 organized a Church — called for a great society of human 
 hearts — demanded ten thousand such channels to flow throuoh 
 
HIS HOUE AS COME. 291 
 
 — could not cliscliarge its fulness tlirougli less. Are we ob- 
 structing its onward flow, or living witli our hearts wide open 
 to the current? Times have been, in the history of the 
 Church, when that hour was actually ignored — forgotten; 
 when the whole redemptive work was as much lost sight of 
 as if it had been a mere vision taken up again into heaven. 
 But we profess to date everything from it — to owe everything 
 to it. We profess that for tliis cause have we come to that 
 hour — to the knowledge and the redeeming power of it — 
 that we might bring others to it also. But if the world is 
 to form its judgment of that hour from us— from our con- 
 duct — will their judgment of it be correct ? AYe may not 
 be deluding them with the pretended wood of the true cross; 
 but may we not be fatally deceiving them as to its all- 
 sacrificing spirit? Earnestness is the world's piety; and 
 they yield themselves up to its power. That liour was the 
 hour of God's earnestness; that horn' saw Divine earnestness 
 rising to zeal — the zeal of the Lord of hosts — self-commun- 
 ing zeal. " Because he could swear by no greater, He sware 
 by Himself," and that hour saw Him redeeming His oath. 
 The time for mere words, even for solemn oath- words, had 
 passed. That hour was one great acted oath — taking the 
 outward form of a cross, and the inward form of a Divine 
 self-sacrifice — an oath-c?eecZ, which said, " As I live, saith the 
 Lord; as / die, saith the Lord, I will not the death of the 
 sinner "" — an oath which was meant to go vibrating and 
 reverberatinoj throus^h the Church and the world for ever. 
 Are we translating and repeating that oath in our conduct ? 
 Would the world guess, looking at us, that such an hour 
 had ever existed on earth, or that we had any knowledge 
 of it? 
 
 6. Let me recapitulate. Having contemplated the great 
 hour which saw the culmination of our Lord's mediatorial 
 work on earth, we next proceeded to shew, first, that it is 
 underlaid by a moral principle of universal a23i:)lication — 
 which we viewed, however, in its Christian aspect — that 
 
292 THE EEDEEMEE CONTEMPLATIXG 
 
 there is a period in the life of every Christian, and of every 
 Christian commnnity, for which every previons hour is a 
 designed means of j)reparation — that snch seasons of special 
 service and sacrifice liave actually occurred in the history of 
 the Church — that such times should be expected, prepared 
 for, and ascertained — that the dne apprehension of them 
 would invest ns with a consecrating sense of responsibility — • 
 and that on our discharge of such responsibilities may be 
 suspended consequences of the greatest magnitude. Brethren, 
 it was the conviction that such an hour of responsibility had 
 arrived that led to our modern home missionary movements. 
 And I might, therefore, inquire next, Whether the urgency 
 of that hour is not now greater than ever? The Church had 
 been living and banqueting, l)r sleeping, within closed doors. 
 It woke up to find that a world was collected on the outside, 
 famishing for the bread of life. But though it threw open 
 its doors, and rushed out with what was at hand, the famish- 
 ing multitude is greater now than it was at first. And what 
 is more, the urgency of the hour has grown greater, both 
 from Church reasons, and reasons arising from the sceptical 
 tendency of our home population. Not only will not the 
 same degree of Christian zeal meet the increasing wants of 
 the world, it will not suffice for the spiritual health of the 
 Church, nor will it silence the suspicions of the sceptic as a 
 Divine reality. Of the very same sceptical class in apostolic 
 times, we are told again and again, that " fear came upon 
 every soul."' They were truth-smitten, and quailed. The 
 amount of what was done will not account for this, but the 
 unselfish soul which was thro"\\m into it ; not so much the 
 quantity as the quality — not, how much can I conveniently 
 afibrd? but, how much can I lovingly sacrifice? This is the 
 spirit before which man bov/s dovv^n, and the spirit which 
 God honours, for it honours Him. It is His own sj^irit, 
 and therefore the only spirit which represents Him. And 
 this is the spirit called for by the hour. 
 
 But, finally, let me add and urge the high motive to be 
 
HIS HOUR AS COME. 293 
 
 found in our Lord's prayer, "Father, glorify thy name/' 
 Observe, He did not ask the Father to give, but to take — to 
 accept. "He laid down His life of Himself'' Of Himself 
 He ascended the steps of the altar. Of Himself He ascended 
 the altar, laid Himself prostrate, and said, " Father, glorify 
 thy name.'" Ages of exposition could not exhaust the mean- 
 ing of that utterance. He himself went up in the flame. 
 
 Now, can we in our humble measure join Him in it? Is 
 our eye fixed on the same high end — the glory of God? I' 
 know full well that our benevolent and religious societies are 
 doing much, compared v/ith doing nothing ; I know that 
 they can move and act only as they are sustained by the 
 Christian comnKinities to which they belong ; and I know 
 that the objects and claims v/hich divide the attention and 
 resources of these communities are much more numerous 
 than they were. But I know, also, that hov/ever mucli we 
 may be doing according to the standard of mere custom, mere 
 convenience, or any mere human standard, we may be doing 
 next to nothing when measured by the only Christian stan- 
 dard — Christ. Our very activity may but serve to conceal 
 from us our want of zeal. Our very contributions may be 
 mere substitutes for giving — may be one form of with- 
 holding. Even our prayers, instead of deepening our sense 
 of dependence, may for the time exliaust it. Brethren, \vq 
 need to be perpetually recurring to first principles. Instead 
 of measuring ourselves by ourselves, we need often repair to 
 the standard measure — the Cross. And instead of looking 
 chiefly to inferior ends, we need to be reminded that there is 
 an end which subordinates every other, and to raise our eye 
 to the height of that end — iha glory of God. 
 
 Yes, here is our test. If what we have given, prayed, and 
 done, could be added together and made visible, should we 
 be content to have it regarded as representing our estimate 
 of the worth of souls, of our obligation to Christ, or of the 
 glory of God? I do not ask what we might be ready to do 
 in other circumstances, and with impossible wealth and 
 
29 4i THE REDEEMER CONTEMPLATING 
 
 means. But, witli our present resources — as individuals, 
 cliurchef:!, denominations — supposing tliat all we have felt 
 and done in the great cause of the world's recovery could be 
 summed up and made visible, would it adequately represent 
 the value we attach id the glory of God? Is it such that 
 it would bring glory to God ? Have we ever made a sacrifice 
 for Him? Or could we, if required, take all that we could 
 justly spare from our domestic and other claims, and, placing 
 the whole before Him, say from the heart, " Father, glorify 
 thy name''? This is precisely vA\at He does require. And 
 here is our motive. This is the only style of Christian service 
 that brings Him glory. Inferior motives will account for 
 inferior service; but the man who thus acts has been looking 
 at the glory of God — lookmg at that object which turned the 
 Saviour himself into a sacrifice. 
 
 Tell me not that I ask for too high a scale of Christian 
 service. It is the only scale which Christianity o^vns. Every 
 other it denounces and disowns. Every other has the old 
 world-stamp of convenience and self-indulgence on it. Only 
 this is entitled to say, "Father, glorify thy name.'' Deem 
 not the standard impracticable. Others have reached it — 
 have found liberty, life, blessedness in it. And as they have 
 gone on raising their scale of service, they have gone on sa.ymg 
 with a freer heart, and in a more exulting strain, " Father, 
 glorify thy name." Deem it not more than the occasion 
 calls for. What, when every other religion impugns His 
 name — when the whole of heathendom foully misrepresents 
 His character, or rather ignores His very existence — when 
 the whole sinful world is leagued and banded together to 
 blot out His glory — can you do less than put all your 
 resources at His service, and say, "Father, glorify thy name"? 
 Too high a standard! Why do you forget what men will 
 do— are doing, at this moment, to avenge their country's 
 quarrel, and to glorify their own name? But here is a cause 
 for which all creation is groaning and travailing in pain 
 together until now — for which Christ himself came to His 
 
HIS HOUR AS COME. 205 
 
 great mysterious hour — and for wliicli He lias brouglit all 
 His Christian hosts to this hour; and shall they have no 
 page in the book of the wars of the Lord? "Father, 
 glorify thy name." Too high a style of service! What, 
 when it is to issue in nothing less than the restoration of a 
 world, and sucJi a world, to God! Why, the very prospect 
 has already filled all heaven with ecstasy. There His glory 
 has never been obscured — here it has suffered a lone: ami a 
 disastrous eclipse ; when, therefore, it shall again burst fortli 
 with unclouded splendour, well may the blessed, with 
 unwonted emphasis, exclaim, " Even earth — the Avhole earth 
 — is full of His glory — the kingdoms of this world have 
 become the kingdoms of our God and of His Christ;" and 
 well may we, in prospect of that hour, exclaim, " Father, 
 glorify thy name." Tell me not, then, of what you are doing 
 — I only tell you of what Christ is requiring. And I ask 
 you — by that great hour in the past to which you owe your 
 redemption, and by that sublime hour in the future when 
 your Lord shall come again — regard this as your hour — the 
 season to which you have been brought, and for which you 
 have been divinely prepared as a living sacrifice — and say, 
 practically, by your gifts, your prayers, your self-consecra- 
 tion, '• Father, glorify thy name." 
 
296 cheist's consecration of 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 cheist's conseceation of his disciples to theie woek. 
 
 John xvii. 18, 19 — " As thou hast sent me into the -world, even so have I 
 also sent them into the worlcT. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, 
 that they also might be sanctified through the truth." 
 
 You hardly need be reminded that tlie Bible contemj^lates 
 two kinds of sanctification : tlie one, in the Hebrew sense of 
 separation, or setting apart to a holy use — the other, in the 
 evangelical sense of being made holy; the former referring 
 to both persons and things — the latter to persons only; the 
 former to office — the latter to character. Now, it is evident 
 when the Saviour here s^oeaks of having sanctified Himself, 
 He, as a being originally, personally, and perfectly holy, 
 could only employ the word in the former signification, as 
 denoting the fact that He had separated or devoted Himself 
 to a holy office. But it is a question with sacred expositors 
 whether, when He prays in the same verse that His disciples 
 might be sanctified, he does not employ the word in the 
 latter sense, namely, that they might be jji^^z/iecZ and made 
 personally holy — especially, too, as He prays that they might 
 be sanctified through, or in the truth — for the truth, we 
 know, is the great instrument of personal sanctification. 
 
 Now, it appears to me that the term, as here applied to 
 the apostles, includes both senses; that the Saviour prayed 
 that they might be sanctified in the one sense, in order that 
 they might be fit to be sanctified in the other — that " the 
 truth,'" accompanied by a Divine power, might so influence 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIE WOEK. 297 
 
 and sanctify them j9e7'so?2fi%, that they might be prepared 
 to be sej^arated or sanctified officialbj. 
 
 And "the trnth/' or that part of "the truth," which 
 He expected to be chiefly employed by the Holy Sj^irit for 
 this purpose, is evidently that which relates to the glorious 
 fact of His ovs^i official sanctification, or entire consecration 
 to the work of our redemption. Hence He represents His 
 consecration to have taken place expressly with a view to 
 theirs. " Por their sakes I sanctify or devote myself, that 
 they also both be j)ersonally sanctified, and then relatively 
 or officially consecrated through the truth;'' that, standing 
 under the action of my cross, feeling the full influence of 
 that mystery of comj)assion — beholding how I, Thy Son, the 
 brightness of Thy glory, there devote and set myself aj^art 
 as a sacrifice for the manifestation of Thine infinite love — 
 they may feel impelled to devote themselves with a similar 
 entireness of consecration to the proclamation of that love 
 to the world. 
 
 And this was the prayer of Christ, not for the apostles 
 only, " but for them also," He adds, " who shall believe on 
 me through their word ; that they all may be one, that the 
 world may believe that thou hast sent me.'' Finding them- 
 selves ever standing in the presence of His wondrous cross, 
 He prayed that they might feel themselves impelled to make 
 His consecration the model and motive of their own, that 
 God might be glorified and man be saved. 
 
 Let us, then, in the spirit of this great prayer, exhibit cer- 
 tain truths calculated to promote this Christian consecration ; 
 confining our remarks to such truths only as relate directly 
 to 'the dedication of Christ himself, or have gro^vn imme- 
 diately out of it. 
 
 I 
 
 Now, the first, and that which forms the root of all the 
 rest, is the great truth, that Christ should have sanctified or 
 consecrated Himself to the work of our redemption. 
 
298 chpjst's conseceation op 
 
 "For their sakes," said He, " I sanctify myself — I devote 
 myself entirely to tlie work of human redemj^tion. In pur- 
 suance of this voluntary engagement, He withdrew Himself 
 from the glories of heaven, and set Himself apart to the 
 sorrows of earth and to the sufferings of a vicarious death. 
 Though He saw, as from a height, the whole array of duty 
 and trial which awaited Him, the only emotion He evinced 
 at the sight was a holy impatience to reach the cross which 
 stood at the end of His .path — a self-consuming ardour to be 
 baptized with that baptism of blood. Though all the fulness 
 and fire of the passions dwelt in Him, never did He waste a 
 single feehng, but devoted the whole as consecrated fuel for 
 offering up the great sacrifice in which His life was consumed, 
 and by which the world might be saved. 
 
 And why did He this ? Not merely to impart a benevo- 
 lent spirit to His dispensation, though this is one of its 
 sublime results, but because He had undertaken to embody 
 before the eyes of the universe the glory of the Divine bene- 
 volence in the salvation of man. Charged with this exalted 
 ofiice. He came forth and stood before the world as the visible 
 representative of the invisible God. "He that hath seen 
 me,'' said He, " hath seen the Father also.'" " Henceforth 
 ye know the Father, and have seen him.'' " I and my 
 Father are one." Possessed with the infinite magnitude of 
 the task He had undertaken, nothing could for a moment 
 divert His eye from it ; every action and item of His life 
 was referable to this, and subsidiary to it. As far as con- 
 sistent v/ith the laws of mediation, He was content to con- 
 ceal Himself, to merge His own claims, that He might occupy 
 the whole of our field of vision with the love of God. He 
 impressed on us the sublime fact that the Father loves us, not 
 in consequence of the great propitiation, but that He pro- 
 vided the propitiation because "he so loved us," because 
 He was bent on obtaining a medium through which He could 
 pour out the ocean-fulness of His love upon us. He goes 
 even beyond this — " Therefore doth my Father love me," 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR WORK. 299 
 
 saith He, "because I lay down my life for tlie sheep;'' in 
 other words, "My Father loves you with a love so unbounded, 
 that He even loves me the more for dying to redeem you. 
 He so loves you, that whatever facilitates the expression of 
 His love receives an expression of His Divine esteem. By 
 sustaining your liabilities, by surrendering my life as an 
 equivalent for your transgression, and thus vindicating His 
 law from all aj^j^earance of connivance at sin, I am setting 
 His compassion at liberty ; . I am removiug a restraint from 
 His love, wdiich threatened to hold it in eternal suspense ; I 
 am enabling His grace to act, to save whom it will; and for 
 thus concurring in His benevolent purpose, and opening an 
 ample channel for the tide of His love to flow in, the Father 
 loves me. Though I was ineffably beloved from eternity. He 
 may now be said to have added infinite delight to infinite.'' 
 Thus unreservedly did the Saviour lay Himself out, even to 
 the death, to enlarge our conceptions of the grace of God. 
 
 And how could it be otherwise? Eeposing as He had 
 from eternity on the bosom of that infinite love which He 
 had come to earth to represent, knowing as He did its 
 infinite treasures, He knew that no representation He could 
 make could adequately im23ress us with its vastness ; how, 
 then, could He be satisfied with doing less than the utter- 
 most which humanity, sustained by Divinity, could effect 
 in order to express it? A love whose sacrifices might be 
 numbered and measured could not adequately express a love 
 which passeth knowledge; therefore it was that He with- 
 held nothing, but " gave Himself" for us. Less than the deep 
 ''travail of His soul" could not have rei^resented the pulsa- 
 tions and throes of infinite compassion ; therefore it was that, 
 being in an agony, He sweat as it were great drops of blood 
 falling to the ground — that He endured the cross, despising 
 the shame. True it is that, knowing as we do " the grace of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ," well may we be filled with astonish- 
 ment at its amazing riches; but equally true is it that, 
 knowing as He did the infinite extent of that love of God 
 
SOO cheist's coxseceation of 
 
 wliicli He had engaged to represent, He felt that nothing less 
 than such a display of grace could sufficiently express it — 
 felt that nothing He might say or suffer could possibly 
 exaggerate our conception of the grace of God. 
 
 Now, be it remembered that having thus embodied the 
 love of the Father, He has devolved on His people to multij^ly 
 the copies oi His character in their own lives. " As Thou hast 
 made me Thy messenger to the world, I have made them my 
 messengers to the world.'' They have now to do instrumentalhj 
 for Christ what He did efficaciously and really for the Father 
 — to represent His benevolence to the world. In making them 
 partakers of His grace. He not only intends their own salva- 
 tion, He intends the salvation of others by their instrumenta- 
 lity; He intends that they should go forth from His presence 
 as messengers, conveying to the world the cheering intelli- 
 gence that He is still sitting on His throne of mercy waiting 
 to be gracious, and that they should spare no effort or sacrifice 
 which may be necessary in order to proclaim the fact univer- 
 sally. He says to them, in effect, " You have given yourselves 
 to me, and I give you to the world — give you as my repre- 
 sentatives. Look on yourselves as dedicated to this office, as 
 I, in a higher sense, was appointed to represent the gracious 
 character of God." 
 
 Hence, partly, the mighty obligation they are under to task 
 their utmost powers for the diffusion of His Gospel. For if 
 it was necessary that He should turn all His infinite nature 
 into grace in order to do justice to the love of God, is it less 
 necessary that their natures should be turned into tenderness 
 and love in order to furnish the world with an idea of His 
 grace ? Are our persons so capacious, our natures so exalted, 
 that less than the consecration of the whole should be able to 
 convey an idea of His grace ? So vast were His conceptions 
 of the love of God, that He attempted not to describe it — He 
 contented Himself with saying that " God so loved us," and 
 aimed rather to express its indescribable amount in Godlike 
 deeds. And did He fall so fixr short of the great reality— was 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR WORK. 801 
 
 His representation of the love of God so scant and meagre, 
 that we can imitate it without sacrifice or effort ? It is true 
 His example can never be equalled, for it embodies infinite 
 goocbiess ; but with so much the greater force does it oblige 
 us, in our humble measure, to attempt the imitation. Having 
 died for the good of man, the least He is entitled to expect is, 
 that we should live for the same benevolent object. To save 
 the world was His vocation — His supreme and single object — 
 so that never do we so much resemble Him as when we make 
 it our business and calling to carry out His gracious design. 
 Yes; as far as religion is practical and relative to others, He 
 has made benevolence its life and essence — not merely a 
 part of the Christian character, but the character itself. 
 
 11. 
 
 When the Saviour prayed that His followers might be 
 entirely consecrated to the work of diffusing the Gospel 
 through the truth, we may suppose, secondly, that He contem- 
 plated the great truth or fact that the Hohj Spirit himself is 
 devoted to the same object 
 
 Would you know w^hat the design of the Spirit is in coming 
 into the world ? Hov/ remarkable and emphatic the language 
 of Christ in reply? "He shall not speak of Himself." " He 
 shall testify of me.'" " He shall glorify me." As the Saviour 
 came to glorify the Father by the demonstration of His infinite 
 love, so the Spirit came to glorify Christ by exhibiting and 
 carrying that demonstration home, through the Church, to 
 the heart of the world. But what must be the Spirit's esti- 
 mate of the work of Christ, that He should thus, in a sense, 
 be content to be silent concerning Himself, in order that the 
 world might resound with nothing but the claims of Christ — 
 to conceal His own. splendours, that the eye of the world 
 might rest undistm-bed on Christ alone ! And who can com- 
 pute the enormous guilt of those by whose instrumentality 
 His infinite propensions to exhibit the glory of Christ might 
 be carried into effect, but who give that instrumentality to 
 
302 cheist's conseceation of 
 
 other objects, and thus unutterably "grieve the Holy Spirit 
 of God!" 
 
 Possibly, however, the promise of the Spirit to convert the 
 vv^orld, it may be said, was not meant for all time, but only, 
 or chiefly, for the first ages of the Church. So far from 
 this, the gift of the Holy Sj^irit is the great promise of the 
 Christian dispensation, "Ask, and ye shall receive/' The 
 law of the dispensation on the subject is this, " Every one 
 that asketh, receiveth" — a law which establishes the certain 
 and permanent connexion between asking for the influence 
 of the Spirit and obtaining it. While the sacred Scriptures, 
 p)ublic Avorship, a standing ministry, all the means of 
 grace — what are these but the great ordinances of the dis- 
 2)ensation, appointed as so many channels to receive the 
 living waters of prophetic vision, and to convey them into all 
 the world ? And the great unfulfilled prophecy of tlie dis- 
 pensation is, " I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh/' 
 Till this prediction is fulfilled, and the world convinced of 
 sin, the promise of the Spirit to accomplish this work may ])e 
 regarded as repeated to every believer through every hour of 
 time. 
 
 Now, as the fitness of the Holy Spirit to be the agent of 
 Christ consists in His due apj^reciation of the claims of 
 Christ, and in His joerfect sympathy with the design of 
 Christ to save the Vv^orld ; so the fitness of the Church, as the 
 instrmnent of the Spirit, can only consist in its sympathy 
 witli the Spirit in converting the world and glorifying Christ. 
 Did Christ travail in soul for the redemption of the v/orld? 
 Then the fitness of the Spirit as His representative consists 
 in an infinite travail of compassion for the aiDplication of that 
 redemption; and never till "Zion travails'' for the same 
 object can she expect to "bring forth." Did Christ devote the 
 entire fulness of His nature to the salvation of man ? Then 
 the fitness of the Spirit to be the steward of all that fulness 
 of grace consists in His readiness to administer the whole to 
 the perishing race; and never till the Church is in readiness, 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR WOEK. 303 
 
 by entire devotedness, to convey it into all the world, is it 
 prepared to do justice to the office and agency of the Holy 
 Spuit. Did Christ appoint the Christian ministry and the 
 various means of grace as the channels for conveying His 
 Gospel to every creature? Then the suitableness of the Spirit 
 to carry out this intention must consist in His readiness to 
 replenish those channels with heavenly influences, till the 
 earth be filled with the glory of the Lord ; and never till the 
 Church has mi^ltiplied these channels sufficiently to realize 
 this grand consummation will it adequately sympathize with 
 the office of the Spirit, or satisfy His infinite desire for the 
 glory of Christ. Hence the importance of each believer 
 individually, and of the Church collectively, being "filled 
 with the Spirit/' So lofty is His estimate of the claims of 
 Christ, and so perfect His sympathy with Him in the great 
 object of the world's recovery, that He requires every member, 
 agency, and influence of the entire Church to unite to the 
 utmost in enforcing those claims and realizing that recovery. 
 The absence of a sinde means which might have been 
 employed is not only to rob the world of that promised 
 influence of the Spirit which might have accompanied its 
 presence, it is to proclaim to the unthmldng world that He 
 is not entirely devoted to the glory of Christ, and thus to cast 
 a shade of grievous dishonour on the dispensation of the 
 Spirit. 
 
 III. 
 
 But if this view of the duty of entire consecration to the 
 service of Christ be "scriptural, we may expect to find that it 
 is not left to be inferred from other doctrines merely, but 
 that it stands out on the sacred page with all the distinct- 
 ness and boldness of a direct command. This is the third 
 truth, or the third class of truths, to which we would 
 call your attention — the exhortations and commands of 
 Scripture. We are exhorted to yield ourselves unto God. 
 We are entreated by the mercies of God to present ourselves 
 
80i CHRIST'S CONSECEATION OP 
 
 as Ihing sacrifices. "We are admonislied that if \ve are 
 Christians in reality, we are henceforth to live, not nnto 
 ourselves, but to Him that died for us and rose again. Nay, 
 we are reminded that we are no longer our own — that we 
 are bought with a price — and that we are bound to glorify 
 God in our body and in our spirit, which are His. Thus, 
 not only is the consecration of Christ presented as the model 
 of ours ; it is enforced as the motive and reason of it. " For 
 their sakes/' said He, "I sanctify myself;'' they are lost, and 
 I do it for the sake of their redemption ; and now for His 
 sake we are are to sanctify and devote ourselves. Yes, 
 brethren, we are lost — lost to ourselves, to heaven, and to 
 God — lost as truly as if the hand of justice had seized us, 
 led us down to our place in hell, drawn on us the bolts of 
 the dreadful prison, and as if years of wretchedness and ages 
 of darkness had rolled over thus there. Well may we ask 
 ourselves again and again, How is it we are here — here, in 
 the blessed light of day — here, in the still more blessed light 
 of God's countenance — here, in His house, like children 
 sitting in their father's smiles? Why is this? and how has 
 it come to pass? Has justice relaxed its demands — or have 
 the penal flames become extinct? What ! know ye not that 
 ye are bought with a price? It is the theme of the universe. 
 Look on that glorious being descending from heaven in the 
 form of God. Know ye not the grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, that He sought no resting-place between His throne 
 and the cross? Behold that cross. Know ye not that He 
 loved us, and gave Himself for us — that He bare our sins in 
 His o^vn body upon the tree? Approach nearer, and look on 
 that streaming blood. Know ye not " the precious blood of 
 Christ,'' and that that blood is the price of your redemp- 
 tion? Hear you not the voice from heaven which now says, 
 "Deliver them from going down into the pit, for I have 
 found a ransom"? Feel you not the Spirit of God drawing 
 you with gentle solicitations and gracious imjDortunity to the 
 feet of Christ? See you not that He who died for your sins 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR ^YOEK. 805 
 
 liatli been raised for your justification, and is now waiting to 
 receive the homage of your love? 
 
 " How much owest thou unto thy Lord?'' Try to compute 
 it. He asks not for a greater surrender than He deserves. 
 He asks only His due. So that, if there be any part of your 
 nature which He has not redeemed, or anything in your 
 possession for v/hich you are not indebted to Him, keep it 
 back, and apply it to some other purpose. But does not the 
 bare suggestion do violence to your new nature? does not 
 every part of that nature resent the very idea, and find a 
 voice to exclaim, "0 Lord, I am thy servant, I am thy 
 servant, thou hast loosed my bonds''? Accordingly, the 
 Saviour claims you for Himself From the moment the 
 Christian feels the pov*^er of the Cross, his duty becomes 
 definite, imperative, one. It every other member of the 
 human family v/ere abandoned to live without control — if 
 the sun itself were abandoned to wander at random through 
 infinite space — his course would be minutely prescribed. 
 As if he were the first man of a new race— the Adam of a 
 second Paradise — holding in trust the wellbeing of the world 
 — his every step is divinely prescribed. As if he alone held 
 the great secret of the Cross, and were consequently the most 
 important being on the face of the earth, his every moment 
 is charged with an appointed duty. As if he had "been 
 made alive from the dead;" yes, not merely as if he had 
 been called out of nothingness into existence — not merely as 
 if he had been selected and sent down from the ranks of the 
 blessed above — but with stronger motives still — as if his 
 guilty soul had been recalled from perdition, where the 
 undying worm had iound him, and the unquenchable flame 
 had enwrapped him, and his dissolved body recalled from 
 the dust of death — and as if he had "risen together with 
 Christ," had literally come out of the tomb with Christ, and 
 had received life and salvation together at the mouth of the 
 sepulchre, at the hand of Christ— all his new-found powers 
 are to be held by him as a precious trust for the service of 
 
 V 
 
306 CHRIST'S CONSECRATION OF 
 
 Christ. As if he had come forth from the sepulchre at first 
 with life only — and as if his reason, affections, knowledge, 
 speech, 2:)roperty, had then been returned to him sejoarately 
 and in succession, with a distinct intimation accompanying 
 each that he received it back for Christ; he is to look on 
 himself henceforth as a part of the Cross — as taken up in 
 the great designs of Christ — as bound up for life and death 
 in His j)lans of mercy. His character is to be a reproduction 
 of the character of Christ. The disinterestedness which 
 aj)peared in Christ is to reappear in him. The tenderness 
 of Christ, His untold solicitude for human souls, is to live 
 over again in his tones of entreaty, his wrrestling prayers 
 for their salvation. And if tempted to lend but a particle 
 of His influence to any other claimant than Christ, his reply 
 is at hand, " I am not my own, I am Christ's. He has put 
 it out of my power to give Him more than belongs to Him, 
 for He has purchased and challenges the whole through every 
 moment of time : and out of my will to give Him less, for if 
 I know any grief, it is that my all should so inadequately 
 express my sense of obligation." 
 
 IV. 
 
 But if a motive to Christian consecration is thus derivable 
 from the fact that Christ hath bought us, another motive is 
 derivable from the fact that the Holy Spirit has devoted us 
 to the glory of Christ. And this is the fourth truth to which 
 we would call attention. " What ! know ye not that your 
 body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which 
 ye have of God, and ye are not your own ?" If the Sj)irit is 
 promised to glorify Christ by convincing the world of sin, 
 what is the instrumentality which He is to employ for this 
 purpose but the agency of those whom He has already con- 
 verted and sanctified ? By whose feet but theirs is He to 
 carry the Gospel "among all nations"? By whose lips but 
 theirs is He to convince the world of sin? By whose hands 
 but theirs is He to wield that weapon of celestial truth which, 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR WOEK. 807 
 
 because it is the only vvTapon He em2:)loys, is called the very 
 " sworcl of the Sjnrit '' ? By whose lives but theirs is He to 
 give the world an idea — a living and embodied idea — of the 
 holy and disinterested benevolence of Christ? Hence they 
 are to be co-workers with God the Holy Si:)irit. 
 
 But in order to this, the consecration of the Christian must 
 resemble the consecration of the Spirit — must have all the 
 characteristic devotedness of a temple. His fitness for being 
 emj)loyed by the Spirit to represent and glorify Christ, will, 
 of course, depend on the moral state of the world, and on the 
 perfection of his contrast to it. If that contrast be not very 
 apparent, the world cannot be expected to take pains and 
 look after it. If it be not very considerable, it will in effect 
 be nothing, but will itself be neutralized and borne down by 
 the counter-mfluences of the world. If it exists only in some 
 particulars, the world will be quick to detect the inconsis- 
 tency between those particulars and the rest of his character; 
 and will quote him against himself, and in confirmation of 
 itself. If he still approaches the world, and places himself 
 in friendly contact with it, when he ought not, for the cause 
 of Christ he exists comparatively in vain. Say what he 
 will for the Gospel, the world will judge of it by his example. 
 Eefer them as he may to the insph^ed record itself his life 
 is the Bible which they read — an epistle kno^vn and read of 
 all. 
 
 His usefulness, we repeat, will depend, under God, on the 
 breadth and distinctness of the line of demarcation which 
 separates him from the world, and on the perfection of con- 
 trast to the world which he exhibits. 
 
 " But,'' asks the worldly professor, " may he never relax 
 and be neutral? may he withdraw nothing from the cause of 
 Christ V What would you specify? money? and spend it in 
 sin? Time? and give it to sloth? Passions, affections? and 
 lavish them upon trifles ? For, remember, there is no alter- 
 native. " He that is not with me,'' saith Christ, and during 
 every moment in which he is not with me, "is against me." 
 
808 cheist's conseceation of 
 
 Lax views on tliis subject are tlie origin of mucli of that 
 inferior piety by wliicli the Church is enfeebled, and its use- 
 fuhiess iin^^aired. Thousands of professing Christians seem 
 to proceed on the supposition that there is a sense in which 
 they are still partially their own — that there are considerable 
 portions of time in which they are at perfect liberty to relax 
 and stand at ease — that at such times their conduct is quite 
 neutral in its influence — that anything short of positive 
 hostility against Christ is to be put to the account of service 
 for Hun. Now, were this supposition as true as it is false — 
 were it quite possible for the Christian to withhold from 
 Christ a portion of his resources, without rendering by such 
 an act the least advantage to the foe, it v/ould still be highly 
 inconsistent and unjust. Tor at the very moment we are 
 relaxing in His service, ten thousand of His agencies are at 
 work for us. At the moment we are self-indulging, we are 
 doing it with His money, in His time, at His expense, by the 
 light of His sun. Bat when we remember that every particle 
 of influence withheld from Christ is so much employed against 
 Him — that neutrality here is impossible — the consequences of 
 such conduct are alarming. Christians, could you ascend some 
 mount of vision, v^dience you could look down upon the con- 
 sequences of your conduct, you would see that at the moment 
 when you thought yourselves most perfectly detached from 
 all around you, there is a sense in which you were then stand- 
 ing in the centre of the universe with lines of relation and 
 influence drawn from yourselves to every one of the congre- 
 gated myriads ; you v/ould see that often, when you thought 
 your character most unobserved and at rest, it was giving 
 out moral influences without intermission — that the moment 
 they ceased to be good they began to be evil — that, however 
 apparently unimportant, they have ever since been swelling 
 that tide of evil by which myriads are borne on to perdition; 
 you would see that the world is the scene of a moral con- 
 flict — that in that conflict you hold an appointed post — that 
 at that post everything you possess is a weapon of war — that 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIR WOEK. 309 
 
 never have you ceased to wield them cither for evil or for 
 good, for the moment in which you thought you were only 
 l^ausing, a shout of joy ran through the ranks of the invisible 
 foe, who beheld in that pause a proof of your weakness, and 
 the sign and means of their own strength — so that when you 
 thought you were only doing nothing for Christ, they hailed 
 you as an accession to their own ranks acting against him ; 
 and thus you would see why it is that Meroz v/as cursed 
 because they came not out to the help of the Lord, and why 
 it is that in the final judgment those who did nothing will 
 find themselves standing side by side v/ith them that did 
 evil, and involved in the same condemnation. Oh, precious, 
 precious influence, each grain of which exceeds the value of 
 the globe ! Well might our Lord be jealous for every particle, 
 smce there are but two treasuries in the universe, one for 
 Him and the other for Satan, so that every grain withheld 
 from His falls into and enriches the other. And well may 
 the Christian regard himself with all the sacredness of a 
 tem^^le, since he cannot yield himself to any other claimant 
 than Christ, even for a moment, without yielding himself 
 during that moment to a hostile party ; so that, in truth, his 
 only escape from partial hostihty to Christ is that of unre- 
 served devotedness to His service. 
 
 V. 
 
 But has the prayer of Christ for the entire consecration of 
 His followers been answered in any instance? Have any of 
 His followers made His sanctification for them the model and 
 motive of their sanctification for Him? There have been 
 such; and this is the next truth to v/hich we would call 
 attention. 
 
 I need only repeat the name of Paul. I need not stop to 
 prove his devotedness. The fact is familiar — almost prover- 
 bial. His whole course, subsequent to his conversion, was 
 in harmony with the prayer of the text, and with the 
 conviction which he entertained that he had been separated 
 
310 CHRIST'S CONSECEATION OP 
 
 or sanctified from his mother's womb. And yet, with all 
 his self-consuming zeal, was he exceeding his obligations — ■ 
 doing anything more than ca,rrying out Christian principles 
 to their legitimate application — ^living to Christ? Did he 
 ever utter a word which implied that he considered himself 
 an excejDtion to what others shonld be? that no one was 
 bound to be so zealous for Christ as he was? that a lower 
 standard of benevolence was sufficient for them? On the 
 contrary, how humbly did he account himself less than the 
 least of all saints — how uniformly did he speak of himself 
 only as one of a number constrained and borne onwards by 
 the love of Christ — and how earnestly did he say to all, 
 " Follow me, as far as I follow Christ ! " 
 
 Numbers did thus follow him. So effectually were they 
 wrought on by the love of Christ, that they "thus judged, that 
 if one died for all then were all dead; and that he died for all, 
 that they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, 
 but unto him that died for them and rose again." They judged 
 that, instead of living as if they were under little or no obli- 
 gation to Him, they should henceforth act as if the duty of 
 living to Him were the only obligation they were under, and 
 that the best way of doing that would be by conveying the 
 knowledge of His redemption to others, and thus working out 
 the grand j^urposes of His atoning death. Accordingly, they 
 were ready to be messengers or martyrs, honoured or accursed, 
 anything or nothing, so that they might assist in diffusing the 
 Gospel of Christ. And what was there in all this which is 
 not obligatory on the Christians of the present day? What 
 had the Saviour done for them which He has not equalled and 
 even exceeded for us? Compassion moved tliem — but is 
 irreligion less depraving, or sin less destructive, or hell less 
 fearful now than then? Zeal for the glory of Christ incited 
 them — but are we less indebted to redeeming love .than they? 
 "We do not hope for less than eternal life; and did they expect 
 more ? The Spirit of God impelled and directed them — but 
 it was in ansv/er to earnest, united, and persevering prayer; 
 
HIS DISCIPLES TO THEIE YfOEK. 311 
 
 and is the throne of grace less accessible to us than it was to 
 them ? 
 
 Brethren, "the truth/' to which the prayer of the text 
 refers, has exercised its consecrating influence not merely on 
 a Paul and his contemporary fellow-Christians. In each 
 succeeding age it has been instrumentally creating eminent 
 examj^les of devotedness to Christ — examples of conscientious- 
 ness, which evaded no obligation — of fidelity, which spared no 
 sin, nor allowed any iniquity, however splendid and powerful, 
 to pass unrebuked — of courage, which cowered before no 
 opposition, and shrank from no conflict — of enlarged bene- 
 volence, which knew no limits to its plans, and toils, and 
 travails for the welfare of men — of Christian self-abandonment, 
 which swore eternal devotedness to Christ, though in the 
 presence of the flames v/hich were kindled for its martyrdom 
 — and of love for man, which, even in those flames, wept over 
 the misery of the world, and agonized in prayer for its 
 recovery. 
 
 These examples are not lost. Whether Vv^e are conscious 
 of their stimulating power or not, we are all at this moment 
 reaping their advantage, and are consequently standing under 
 the weight of an increased responsibility. Shall we not 
 aspire, in the strength of Christ, to coj^y and perpetuate them 
 in our devotedness? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Dear friends, the practical application of all this to your- 
 selves is obvious. In every bosom present it should excite 
 the inquiry, first, have I been sanctified in any sense? or am 
 I stiU an undistinguishable part of that unregenerated mass 
 of humanity called the world, over which the doom of 
 destruction is suspended, and yet towards which mercy is all 
 the day long stretching out its hands to save? Oh, we beseech 
 you — and especially you, my dear young friends — by the 
 mercies of God, by the love of Christ, by the tender and 
 gracious influences of the Holy Spirit, that ye come out from 
 
812 CHRIST'S CONSECRATION OF 
 
 the world and be sej)arate, and that ye present yourselves 
 as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable to God, which is 
 your reasonable service. 
 
 But many of you profess to have done this. You avow 
 your obligation to the Son of God. All your jDresent enjoy- 
 ments, and all your hopes for the future, you readily ascribe 
 to the riches of His grace. And often have you asked — are 
 asking now — " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?'' " He 
 hath shewed thee, man, what is good." He hath prayed 
 that you might be sanctified through the truth, reminding 
 you, first, that you are not to be passive in this consecration 
 — that it is to be effected through the influence of the tymtli 
 — so that your understanding, your conscience, your judg- 
 ment, your aff'ections, your will, all the powers of your mind, 
 are to be brought into exercise ; and reminding you that you 
 are to go in search of that truth to the cross — that it is tlie 
 doctrine of a dying Saviour's love which possesses the greatest 
 adajDtation to move a guilty sinner's heart. He 2^^^^^y^^^ ^^^ 
 your consecration, reminding you, next, that even the doctrine 
 of the cross, exquisite as its adaptation may be to move your 
 heart, needs to be applied by a power from on high — and 
 cheering you with the assurance, that for that heavenly i^ower 
 you can never pray, but He joins in the prayer, and thus 
 insures your success. 
 
 Ask you still, then, vfhat He would have you to do? 
 What can you do, but let your love to Him take the form of 
 His love to you? and what was that but compassion for the 
 guilty, and active, devoted, unsparing efforts to save the 
 perishing, and thus promote the glory of God? What could 
 the Saviour himself do, as a Saviour, in a world like ours, 
 but labour to rescue it from destruction? And so completely 
 did He redeem it, that He has left nothing for you to do but 
 to diffuse the knowledge of His salvation. The only path 
 which He has left for you to travel is that which leads from 
 His cross to the sinner — the only labour to perform, that of 
 tellino- the world of His love. And how can you do less than 
 
mS DISCIPLES TO THEIE WOEK. 81 3 
 
 devote j^oursclf to it? Ask you ivhen ? Shall it be to- 
 morrow, or a week hence? The Holy Ghost saith, " To-day, 
 if ye will hear His voice." To-day, you have eularged this 
 His material sanctuary, and are now assembled in it; shall 
 not your hearts enlarge as His living temples to receive Him? 
 He comes here both to aid your devotion and to be its object; 
 will you not welcome His presence? He has come here 
 expressly to sanctify you through the truth; and will you 
 not open your hearts to His sanctifying power? Yes, He is 
 more than coming — He hath come — He "standeth at the 
 door." 
 
81 4 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 SEEMON XIV. 
 
 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOE THE CONVEESION 
 OF THE WOELD. 
 
 John xvii. 20, 21 — " Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also ivhicli 
 shall believe on me through their word ; that tliey all may be one ; as 
 thou. Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us : 
 that the world may believe that thou hast sent me." 
 
 This subject was suggested to my mind as appropriate to 
 the present occasion, on learning that this service, rehating 
 to the erection of a chaj)el by the Christians of our denomi- 
 nation, was to be held in a chapel belonging to another 
 denomination. Now, such conduct, as far as it goes, is in 
 harmony with the prayer of our Lord in the text ; the doc- 
 trine of which is simply this — that the visible union of the 
 Christian Church is essential, as a means, to the conversion 
 of the luorld. 
 
 Were I to be asked what I conceive to be the principal 
 evils which the Christian Church has at present to deplore, 
 T suppose I should be only uttering the 02)inion of thousands 
 were I to reply, covetousness, disunion, and undevoutness ; in 
 other words, the great wants of the Church are, liberality 
 union, and prayer. In enlarging now on the second of 
 these topics, let me invite your attention to the Scripture 
 doctrine of the union of Christians — to the lamentable deOTee 
 in which this union is at present wanting — the way in which 
 this want of union impedes the propagation of the Gospel — 
 the nature of that union whicli should be attemx)ted for the 
 
THE CONVERSION OF THE WORLD. 815 
 
 extension of the kingdom of Christ — the manner in which 
 the attempt should be made — and the motives which should 
 induce us thus to unite. May the sjDirit of truth aid our 
 meditations, and the spirit of love enable us to act on them ! 
 
 I. 
 
 First: that there is a sense in which Christians should be 
 visibly one, is a truth so fully insisted on in Scripture, and 
 so freely admitted by all who bear the Christian name, that 
 argument on the subject is quite unnecessary. As to the 
 nature of that oneness, it will suffice for the present to remark, 
 that it is a union of faith, as it relates to Christ — of affection, 
 as it relates to each other — and of benevolent co-operation, 
 in relation to the world. 
 
 11. 
 
 Nor, secondly, can it be necessary to enlarge on the fact, 
 that union among Christians is, in the present day, lament- 
 ably luanting. It has almost become proverhially true. 
 The brotherly love which ought to subsist between the dif- 
 ferent denominations of Christians has to a great degree 
 vanished, and where open rupture has not ensued, a masked 
 affectation of charity passes in its stead. It would be a self- 
 contradiction for children of the same parent to profess that 
 they cherish the most sincere affection for each other, and 
 yet refuse to sit at the same table, or to exchange the 
 mutual expressions of fraternal love. And equally absurd 
 and hypocritical is it for the members of different denomi- 
 nations to pretend to mutual affection, and yet to withhold 
 from each other the most natural expressions of love. They 
 mistake their mere worldly politeness for the sanctified 
 ardour of Christian love. Instead of sincerely welcoming 
 their fellow-Christians to the intimacies of Christian fellow- 
 ship, they content themselves with the bare avoidance of 
 rudeness, and say, " Depart in peace.'' Instead of pouring 
 in oil and wine into the smarting wounds which calumny 
 
olG THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 may have inflicted, they tliiiik it very praise v/ortliy forbear- 
 ance that tliey do not inflict an additional stab, and " pass 
 by on the other side/' How cutting the satire which should 
 now say, " See how these Christians love!" when they have 
 only just religion enough to hate; when they may be heard 
 calling on Christians to come out from their fellow- Christians 
 and to come over to them, as loudly as they call on the 
 irreligious to come out from the world and be separate ; when 
 they exult in a proselyte from another Church more than in 
 a convert from the world; when, by "the honour of Christ," 
 they mean the interest of their own party — by Christian 
 charity, the love of that party — by scriptural union, the 
 subjugation of Christendom to the cherished peculiarities of 
 that party; and when a scant and gauzy affectation of charity 
 is supposed to be an adequate substitute for the warm and 
 ample robe of Christian love. 
 
 III. 
 
 But, thirdly, let us mark the ways in which our want of 
 Christian union impedes the propagation of the Gospel 
 Observe, we are not now j^rofessing to enumerate all the 
 evils which arise from our divisions, or we should attempt 
 to shew how they injuriously affect the religious intellect 
 and the practical judgment, by confining the one to the mere 
 points of difference between us, and the other to the imper- 
 fections and faults of those who differ from us — how neces- 
 sarily they impair our piety, and proportionally diminish our 
 enjoyment — how they tend to destroy a sense of our common 
 interest, so that my church, you7^ church, their church, have 
 become phrases so familiar, that Christ's universal Church, to 
 which each of these belong, and which comprehends thena 
 all, is comparatively forgotten — ^liow each party is led to 
 appoint terms of communion with itself, which disparage 
 and virtually repeal the scriptural bonds of union — how the 
 sphit of division, so far from extini>'uishin2j existino; differ- 
 ences of sentiment, tends to magnify them, and to create 
 
THE CONVEESION OF THE WOELD. 317 
 
 others — how it keeps the sj^irit of calumny in constant 
 activity — and how highly unfavourable it is to the correction 
 of denominational evils, and the adoption of ecclesiastical 
 improvements, each party being afraid to advert to its own 
 defects, lest those defects should be magnified by its opponents, 
 and be turned into a song of triumph. 
 
 The evils to which we would now confine our attention, 
 however, are specific — those which retard the propagation 
 of the Gospel. And we remark, first, that the unfriendly 
 divisions existing among Christians greatly dishonour 
 Chi^istiayiity in the eyes of the luorld. As long as Christians 
 contended only with real foes luithout the Church, their 
 ranks were compact, and their numbers and strength went 
 on increasing. But from the moment they began to contend 
 with fancied foes ivithin, then* conquests ceased, and their 
 day of weakness commenced. Ecclesiastical historians are 
 unanimous in representing the endless schisms which early 
 divided and subdivided the once flourishing churches of the 
 East, as having eminently prepared the way for Mohammed- 
 anism, and even invited its march over their ruins. Equally 
 certain is it, that the contentions of our Reformers retarded 
 the progress, and enfeebled the spirit of the Reformation ; so 
 that many who had left the Church of Eome returned again 
 to its bosom, and others retired and wept in secret. And 
 who does not know that our existing divisions are the dis- 
 grace of Protestantism in the eyes of the Romanist, and tend 
 most efiectually to rivet the fetters of his superstition? One 
 of his avowed and published reasons why he cannot conform 
 to the Protestant religion is in these words, " Because the 
 Protestant Church is not one, but is divided in faith and 
 communion.'' True it is, indeed, that the Romish Church 
 itself is essentially divided in a variety of points, both of 
 doctrine and discipline — that its boasted unity is merely 
 artificial and mechanical, the unity of the deaf concerning 
 sounds, and of the blind concerning colours. But this does 
 not release the sectarian Protestant from the guilt of flattering 
 
818 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 the Papist into a piefereiice for liis own system of errors. 
 Who dc-es not know that thousands have been proselyted to 
 Popery on account of our divisions ? " Thousands/'' says 
 Baxter, " have been drawn into Popery by this argument — 
 more than by all their other argTiments put together/' And 
 who is not aware that infidelity itself derives its strongest 
 v/eapon from the divisions of the Christian Church ? " Our 
 controversies about religion/' says Stillingfleet, " have at last 
 brought even religion itself into a controversy." And what 
 is the result of these disgraceful and wasting divisions? Why, 
 that Mohammedanism, Popery, and irreligion still divide the 
 civilized world between them — that reformed Christianity 
 finds, on numbering its foUov/ers, that it still stands in a 
 most insignificant minority; and worse still, that, like the 
 two contending armies which knew nothing of the earthquake 
 v>^hich had threatened to engulf them both during their conflict, 
 they are so engrossed with their internal quarrels, that they 
 are still insensible to their consequent weakness, and to the 
 disgrace they are inflicting on religion in the eyes of the 
 world. 
 
 Again, our divisions are essentially ruinous to the souls of 
 men. The ways in wdiich they operate to this dreadful efi'ect 
 are various. One of these may be inferred from vvdiat we 
 have just advraiced — thej/ tend to confirm the irreligious in 
 their impiety. Another is, that they ^wove serious impedi- 
 ments to the sincere inquirer after the truth. Besides which, 
 tlie sectarian spirit j^ctsses ivith numbers for the relirj-ious 
 spirit, and is their substitute for it. " Have you never knovm 
 such a case,'' says Howt, " in which a j^roud man, a covetous 
 man, an ungodly man, passed for a good man, because he 
 stood up for a faction?" Men of this class are the crusaders 
 of the Church, who mistake battling in behalf of their 
 joarty for defending the fiiith — wdio regard contention for the 
 truth as a good equivalent for believing it, and whose 
 confidence of their spiritual security it would be all but 
 impossible to shake, since they are conscious of a readiness 
 
THE CONVERSION OF THE WORLD. 319 
 
 even to fight, if necessary, in defence of religion — tlie religion 
 of their party. " Oh, how many millions of souls,'' exclaims 
 Baxter, " are kept in ignorance and deluded by faction as if it 
 were true religion ! " As if the obstacles to the salvation of 
 men were not sufficiently great without, we thus, by our dis- 
 sensions, multiply the difficulties of some, and confirm the 
 fatal delusions of others. We who are aj^pointed instru- 
 mentally to save them, become the occasions of, and acces- 
 sories to, their destruction. 
 
 And then, moreover, our divisions endanger the success of 
 our missionary operations, and delay the conversion of the 
 world. They do this partly by dividing our limited instru- 
 mentality. One church abounds more in the zeal vdiicli 
 burns for active exertion, and another in the v/isdom which 
 is profitable to direct ; here union would be strength, but 
 sej)aration is vreakness and folly. One society calls aloud for 
 agents, and pledges itself to raise the funds for their support ; 
 while another proclaims that it has agents ready if it did but 
 possess means for sending them forth. Here sympathy witli 
 each other's wants, by uniting their respective means, would 
 augment the resources of both ; while a spirit of division is 
 making that which is already little, still less. The combined 
 resources of the whole Church would be only adequate- 
 to its work; but, as if we possessed them in superfluous 
 abundance, we so effectually reduce them by our division, 
 that their insignificance temj^ts opposition, and incurs defeat. 
 
 Not only do our dissensions divide and weaken our mis- 
 sionray resources at home, they also counteract their influence 
 abroad. It is in vain to say that but little disagreement 
 exists as yet among our Christian missionaries abroad ; the 
 seeds of discord only ask for time, and they will not fail to 
 bear their proper fruit. It is in vain to say that good is done 
 notvnthstanding our disunion; the partial good which is 
 effected abroad is effected by merging the disputes of home ; 
 in fact, by uniting — by pretending to a degree of fraternity 
 which the relative state of parties at home will not justify. 
 
820 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOE 
 
 And would not a knowledge of our differences there be fatal 
 to our usefulness? Would it not shake the confidence of the 
 recent convert there — and embroil the churches — and cover 
 the Ijreast of the idolater with an additional coat of resistance 
 to the arrows of the Lord — and arm the Brahmin, the sceptic, 
 and every hostile hand, with a new weapon of attack? To 
 expect that a divided Church should be honoured by God in 
 the conversion of the world, is to expect that the prayer of 
 Christ, in the text, will be frustrated in pure indulgence to 
 our perverseness. Having implored the unity of His discij^les 
 as essential to the final success of His Gospel, we cannot 
 expect the end independent of the means, without im2:)ugning 
 His wisdom, and hoping that His prayer may be forgotten. 
 
 The unity of tlie Church is not merely a scriptural doc- 
 trine ; its practical and visible exhibition is evidently intended 
 to be the grand means for the conversion of the world. By 
 our divisions, therefore, we are either guiltily counteracting 
 the plans of God, or else they evince an expectation that, in 
 homage to our iuiportance, He will repeal His own well- 
 ordered designs — put extraordinary honour on those who 
 love their own particular opinions in preference to His com- 
 mands — and thus publish Himself to the world as the 
 patron of variance and divisions among His people. 
 
 And, more than all, our dissensions impede the usefulness 
 of the Church, and delay the conversion of the world, hij 
 grieving the Holy Spirit of God. Were any particular 
 section of the Church profanely to proclaim its independence 
 of Divine influence, it would be denounced as heterodox by 
 the common consent of Christendom. And yet the necessity 
 of such influence is not insisted on in Scripture more clearly 
 and frequently than is the necessity of Christian union, in 
 order to the full impartation of that influence. So that, to 
 expect enlarged prosperity without the aid of the Spirit, 
 and to expect His enlarged aid in a divided Church, are 
 expectations equally unscriptural and j)rofane. Had the 
 dawning of the day of Pentecost found the apostles assembled 
 
THE CONVEESION OF THE WOELD. 321 
 
 in strife, or split into factions, can we imagine that the Divine 
 Sj^irit wonld have approached the contentions scene — or have 
 filled with His presence a lionse filled already with the 
 presence of anotlier, an evil spirit ? Something qnicker and 
 stronger than reasoning — an instinctive conviction — tells us 
 that He would not. And what, then, is the change, pray, 
 which we suj^pose Him to have since imdergone — or what 
 the peculiar grounds which lead us to expect that He will 
 mingle with our strifes and countenance our schisms? He is 
 still the Spirit of peace, and can He approve of our wars? He 
 is still the Spirit of love, and can He dwell amidst elements 
 of anger and hostility? Or, as the Sj)irit of union, can He 
 consistently put marked honour on the instrumentality of a 
 Church which seems determined to move only in parties, 
 and to work only in factions ? Indeed, it is well worthy the 
 consideration of the Christian Church, w^hether it is not 
 occupying at this moment a position of infatuation and 
 guilt, in relation to the agency of the promised Spirit, similar 
 to that of the ancient Jews in relation to the promised 
 Messiah — whether it is not equally true of each that "He 
 came to His o^rt^i, and His own received Him not/' 
 
 But the evils resulting from a spirit of division, what 
 tongue can enumerate? Disdaining the ruin of only a 
 single Christian, or a particular church, its aim is to embroil 
 and destroy the whole Christian community. Times have 
 been, when all the armed powers of the earth were fighting 
 in its 2^ay, and all the engines of torture active in its service. 
 And if it has become less conversant than formerly with the 
 grosser forms of persecution, it is not owing to any change 
 in its nature. Though more than ever disowned and rej)ro- 
 bated with the tongue, it enjoys the secret countenance, and 
 the tried and faithful services, of a mixed multitude in all 
 communions. It can boast of animosities as bitter — domi- 
 nations as lordly — exactions as oppressive — calumnies as 
 unfounded — and contentions as furious, as ever. It finds it 
 as difficult as ever to conceive of salvation out of its ovm. 
 
 X 
 
322 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 little enclosure. Its operations are as active, extensive, and 
 fearful as ever. Slander prej)ares for it her subtlest poison 
 — breathes susj)icion on acts over which all heaven is rejoicing 
 — and makes it a virtue to hate men whom it should be a 
 happiness to love. As if it were actually experimenting on 
 the infinite divisibility of the Church, it continues absorbed 
 in punctilios, and insistmg on comparative trifles; heedless, 
 meantime, of the cries of the souls it is ruining — of the 
 laugh of the world it is amusing — of the awful remonstrance 
 of the God it is offending; heedless, meantime, that among 
 the most obvious consequences of its conduct are the grieved 
 Spirit of God retiring from it to the greatest possible 
 distance compatible with the continued existence of the 
 Church — the infliction of fresh wounds on the body of Christ 
 — the prolongation of the reign of Antichrist — the delay of 
 the ultimate triumphs of the Gospel — the postponement of 
 millennial bliss. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then let us, fourthty, consider the union which should be 
 attempted, with a view to the extension of the kingdom of 
 Christ. Christian union, to be permanent, must be based on 
 the supreme authority of the Word of God, and on the 
 inalienable right of j)rivate judgment. These are the grand, 
 though simple, principles of the Eeformation; and the Pro- 
 testant who undervalues them is saying, in effect, " Let us 
 relapse again into the bosom of the Eomish Church ; " and any 
 association in the Church which overlooks or violates these 
 princij)les, is sure, sooner or later, to be broken up. Acting 
 consistently on these, we shall not attempt a unity which 
 means uniformity — which substitutes submission to authority 
 for the investigation of truth — which prevents a difference of 
 opinion by allowing no opinion at all. We shall not require 
 the members of another denomination to conform to us, 
 but shall be tender of their right to judge for themselves, 
 as a condition involving our own liberty and wellbeing. 
 
THE CONVERSION OF THE WOELD. 823 
 
 Another essential to Christian union is substantial oneness 
 of faith. Moi^e than substantial agreement is unattainable 
 and unnecessary ; less would leave us without any inducement 
 to unite; but this is not only attainable, it already exists. 
 Justification by faith in the atoning sacrifice of Christ — 
 together with the doctrines which that great truth necessarily 
 involves — is held alike by Episcopalian and Presbyterian, 
 Methodist, Baptist, and Independent — by all the orthodox 
 sections of which the Christian community consists. 
 
 The union sought must be holy, a fellowship of Christians; 
 for its object is to subvert the empire of sin, and to extend 
 and establish the reign of holiness. 
 
 Such an association would be cemented hy brotherly love. 
 Nothing less than love will satisfy the demands of Scripture 
 — no imity of oj^inion in the bond of ignorance — no unity of 
 profession in the bond of hypocrisy — nothing but the "unity 
 of the Spirit in the bond of peace.'' This love would neces- 
 sarily discover itself in aiypropriate acts and expressions. 
 One of these visible expressions, of love to each other, the 
 Head of the Church has Himself specifically appointed, in 
 the ordinance of " the Lord's Suj^per.'' A union which 
 should propose to omit the communion of Christians or of 
 churches in this ordinance would be radically unscrijDtural 
 and defective; and the church which intentionally places an 
 obstacle in the way of it, is obviously opposing the will of God. 
 
 Unanimity of heart would infallibly produce unanimity of 
 action in the Christian cause. The jDracticability of such 
 co-operation among Christians of different denominations has 
 long been demonstrated in the constitution and workino; of 
 the Religious Tract Society, and of the British and Foreign 
 Bible Society ; while the public anniversaries of these noble 
 institutions, as well as of most of our missionary societies, 
 have often been festivals of Christian love, " such as earth 
 saw never, such as heaven stoops down to see.'' 
 
 If we do not add that Christians should be one in name, it 
 is not because we regard such oneness as unimportant, or as 
 
324 THE UNION OF THE CHURCH FOR 
 
 Tiltimately unattainable, but because we believe that it will 
 be among the latest triumphs, if not the very crowning act of 
 brotherly love. AVhat is of much more immediate importance, 
 and more easily attainable, and more urgently enforced in 
 Scripture, is, that the union of Christians should be visible. 
 For this our Saviour prayed — and prayed for it as a requisite 
 to the conversion of the world. It is in vain to reply that His 
 followers are one, as members of that one body of which He 
 is the glorified Head. This is hioiun only to the Church in 
 heaven, and understood only by the Church on earth; whereas 
 the world also must see it. Evidence must be given to the 
 senses of men, that not merely in profession, but in heart 
 and object, we are one. The fact should be too jDlain to be 
 misunderstood, and too palpable to remain a secret. Now, 
 the elements of union we have described include all that is 
 necessary to produce this visibility. By practically admitting 
 the supremacy of the ^Yord of God, we should feel ourselves 
 bound to revise the constitution of the Church to which w^e 
 belono', in order to remove from it whatever infrino-ed on 
 that supremacy; and, by acting on the universal right of 
 private judgment, we should perceive the inconsistency of 
 all ecclesiastical imposition and assumption — and deprecate 
 everything like penalty and degradation for the exercise of 
 that right — and thus some of the principal roots of bitterness 
 would, at once and effectually, be cut up by the roots. Born 
 into the same Christian family — adoring the same Eedeemer 
 — making His character our common model — the salvation 
 of the world for which He died our common solicitude — and 
 His glory our only end — what could result but the visible 
 oneness of all who answered to this description? In order 
 to render the spectacle perfect, indeed, the union shoidd be 
 one of churches or denominations; but, even short of this, 
 such a union of individual Christians — of a considerable 
 number of the members of different denominations — would 
 of itself be a pledge and jirelude of the speedy and complete 
 imion of the whole, and of the approaching conversion of 
 
THE CONVEESION OF THE WOULD. 325 
 
 tlie world. Like tlie friendly j^rovinces of the same conti- 
 nent, spccaking the same language, living in allegiance to 
 the same sovereign, and engaged in mutual and general 
 traffic, the Church would present one scene of spiritual com- 
 merce, carried on for the advantage of the world, and visible 
 to the universe. God would bless us, and all the ends of the 
 earth should fear Him. 
 
 How, then, fifthly, is this union to be attempted? V^ere 
 we to recount all the attempts v/hich have been made to 
 restore the unity of the Church, we should find them to 
 consist of three classes — Those which have aimed to repress 
 diversity of religious opinion, and to produce universal con- 
 formity to a given creed, by emj^loying the principle of 
 coercion; those which have employed argumentative dis- 
 cussion, with the view of obtaining compromise and conces- 
 sion; while the third description proceeds en the Catholic 
 principle of uniting on the great basis of evangelical doctrine 
 in which we already agree, and of exercising mutual forbear- 
 ance on all subordinate matters. The former two have lono- 
 been tried, and every trial has been a failure. Indeed, the 
 very nature of the imion proposed puts them entirely out of 
 the question. The last named, then, is the only plan which 
 now remains for the Church to pursue — and this is the 
 scriptural plan. Shame, everlasting shame on the Church, 
 that the efficacy of this plan should yet remain to be tried. 
 
 But the success even of this method materially depends, 
 under God, on the spirit and manner in Avhich it is pursued. 
 There is not only a right kind of imion, but also a right 
 metJiod of attempting it. We must abandon, for instance, 
 all thoughts of universal conformity to a given standard of 
 faith. The church which proposes that all other churches 
 should come over to it, and be absorbed in it, is only evincing 
 its own vanity and its ignorance both of the Word of God 
 and of human nature, and is acting in the very spirit of 
 
826 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 disunion. The union wliicli tlie Bible inculcates is tliat 
 which would allow the Baptist to remain a Baptist — which 
 woidd allow the Pi-cdo-Baptist to remain a Psedo-Baptist — 
 which would allow the Episcopalian to remain an Episcopa- 
 lian — which would combine them together on earth, on the 
 same principle which will imite them together in heaven — 
 not as Denominationalists, but as Christians. Neither have 
 we any faith in the utility of subscription to articles, or forms 
 of agreement, as the means of uniting Christians of different 
 persuasions. That union, to be scriptural, must be the effect 
 of love; if that love exists already, such subscri^Dtion is 
 unnecessary; and if it do not, subscription is a poor substi- 
 tute. Besides which, such documents themselves are almost 
 certain, sooner or later, to become the occasion of contention 
 and division. 
 
 No; were we only to carry out acknowledged principles, 
 and to reduce existing views to practice, the union desired 
 v/ould be effected. AVe profess, for instance^ to believe in the 
 supreme authority of the Word of God, and in the right of 
 every man to follow his own convictions of its dictates. Let 
 us act consistently with our profession, and we shall not, we 
 cannot, look coldly on a Christian brother, for exercising 
 that right, and conscientiously following these convictions, 
 even though they conduct him to conclusions slightly differ- 
 ing from our own. Let us act consistently with our pro- 
 fession, and we shall not only not exclude him from our 
 sympathies, we shall feel that the system, or the state of 
 things, which in any way depresses him for exercising an 
 acknowledged right, must be wrong — that we are bound to 
 do all we can to remedy the evil — and that till then he is 
 entitled to even more than an ordinary share of our Christian 
 reo-ard. We have shewn that the union sought is based on 
 the common reception of evangelical doctrines. Let us ask 
 ourselves if, in the Church to which we belong, Christian 
 union is built on these doctrines alonje ; and, if it be not, let 
 us remember, that in proportion as we increase the number of 
 
THE CGNVEESION OF THE WOELD. 327 
 
 requisites to communion, we multiply the occasions of clissen- 
 tion and division. Having rejected all terms of communion 
 whicli are not terms of salvation, we should then be ready to 
 fraternize with all whom we regard as practical believers, 
 and with such only. To admit an migodly man into the 
 Church of Christ, and to reject a sincere Christian, are acts 
 equally schismatic in their spirit and tendency; in the former 
 case we are admitting an element of division, and in the 
 latter rejecting an element of union. So that to make the 
 Church more holy, and to make it one, are the same thing. 
 
 When a schism existed in the Church at Corinth, the 
 remedy which the apostle prescribed as infallible was the cul- 
 tivation of brotherly love. Again, when consulted respecting 
 the divisions of the Church at Colosse — when he describes 
 himself as enduring an agony for the maintenance of their 
 union — and when we might suppose, therefore, that his 
 deep solicitude would omit the recommendation of no means 
 essential to that oneness, his great and only expedients were, 
 that they would take a firmer grasp of evangelical doctrine, 
 and that "their hearts might be knit together in love." 
 And were he now to address an epistle to the churches of 
 Britain respecting their di\dded state, the jDrobability is, that 
 an important part of its burden would be the cultivation and 
 exercise of that charity which beareth and believeth, hopeth 
 and endureth all things. Oh, if we would see the unhappy 
 divisions of the Church cemented, let us try the virtue of 
 this healing principle. Its eye would discover excellences 
 in our brethren, where before we had seen nothing but faults 
 — its mantle would be thrown over defects, which before 
 had been exposed to the sun — and its gentle tongue would 
 insinuate truths through the medium of the heart, which 
 mere argument or evidence could never induce the reason to 
 receive. Were such a spirit to prevail amongst us, as soon 
 should we think of confining our affection to men of our own 
 stature as to those of our own party — and as soon should we 
 suspect our right hand of designs against our left, as indidge 
 
828 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 suspicions of eacli other's intention. As often as we mingled 
 in Christian fellowship, we should feel ourselves drawn closer 
 to each other by coming nearer to Him who is the great 
 Centre of the whole. And to feel that we are one in Him 
 would serve in the stead of a thousand arguments to promote 
 l^eace, and be a surer bond of lasting union than a thousand 
 ino-enious schemes of human device. Woidd to God that we 
 were Christians ! 
 
 Again, let us co-operate with our brethren, as far as we 
 can, without compromising principle, in plans of general use- 
 fulness. How mournful and disgraceful is the fact, that, 
 whereas a few years ago the oi'igination of a benevolent 
 institution on Catholic principles was the signal for the best 
 men of all parties to unite, a similar pro2)osition now would 
 be almost sure to originate a j^arty measure in direct opposi- 
 tion ! Is it not the fact, that many a school, association, and 
 society has been set on foot, not because it was felt by its 
 originators to be necessary, but simply because a similar 
 institution had been projected by Christians of another name; 
 so that its supporters are actually held together by no sym- 
 pathy of love for each other, or for their object; but by sheer 
 sympathy of hatred to those other Christians. All the good 
 they intend by the eifort is to supersede or dispossess those 
 Christians; and should they succeed in this object, their own 
 institution itself is probably discontinued, as having answered 
 the great end for which it was commenced. Alas, alas, for 
 the Christian name ! 
 
 Still, however, let us bless God that there is common 
 ground of benevolent activity, on which thousands of Chris- 
 tians of various names continue to unite — that, at least, this 
 one bond of their visible union remains yet unbroken. And 
 it is the growing conviction of the preacher, that as this is 
 almost the last ligament which visibly holds them together, 
 so it is likely to be the first and the princijoal means which 
 God will employ in again restoring Christians to each other's 
 love. Whether He will compel us thus to unite for mere 
 
THE CONVERSION OF THE WORLD. 329 
 
 self-defence against the onset of a world whose interest we 
 are betraying and neglecting by our divisions — or whether by 
 an etlusion of the Sjjirit of love and zeal, He may lead ns to 
 think more of the will of Christ than of the claims of party, 
 we stay not to offer an opinion. But, judging from the 
 superior facilities for union which plans of benevolent activity 
 present, and from the deepening conviction of Christians, that 
 such combination is made essential to the conversion of the 
 world, we repeat our persuasion that benevolent co-operation 
 is likely to be the principal means of restoring Christian 
 union. Christian, if you are active only luitli a party, is 
 there not reason to fear that you are active only /or a party? 
 Take not your views of duty from any mere party j)oint. 
 Hold yourself free for the embrace of great plans of operation. 
 Join hearts with all who bear the family likeness of Christ. 
 Think of swelling His train ; of proselyting to His one Church. 
 Let your only contention with them be, that of the vine with 
 the olive — which shall bear the best fruit. Pray for a blessing 
 on yourself, and your own particular Church, only that you 
 may be made a blessing to every part of the Church, and 
 promote the salvation of the world. 
 
 And this reminds us that with all these means prayer 
 must be conjoined — united prayer — united prayer expressly 
 for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The evident absence 
 of brotherly love, and the general prevalence of estrangement 
 and dissension, demonstrate how little, how very little, the 
 Christians of different communities pray for or with each 
 other. How could we feel estranged from the heart which 
 had j)oured itself forth before God in our behalf ? How could 
 we hear him entreat as a favour to be more closely united 
 with us, without becoming conscious of a desire to be more 
 closely united to him? How coidd our mutual claims and 
 rights be disregarded, or any of the social graces languish, 
 among those who had thus mingled together their tenderest 
 and purest feelings at the throne of their common Father ? 
 
 But not only are we to pray for union, and to pray for 
 
830 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 it socially — we are to honour the Divnie arrangements by 
 imploring that it may be effected in His own appointed way — 
 by an eftiision of the Holy Spirit. And here let us remember, 
 that the divisions of the Church are expressly attributed in 
 Scripture to the absence of the Spirit; for of those who 
 "separate themselves/' it is said that they are "sensual, 
 having not the Spirit/' Wherever their re-union is pre- 
 figured or jn'omised in Scripture, it is represented as the 
 direct result of a Divine influence ; if bone came to his bone 
 in the valley of vision, it was because the Spirit came in 
 answer to j)rayer, and breathed on them. He is in the 
 Church expressly to unite its members in one ; for " there is 
 one body, and one Spirit ; and there is only one body, 
 because there is only one Spirit. He first converts men 
 to one way, that He may then unite them in one heart, in 
 order to exhibit and* employ them in one body, which He 
 shall animate and inhabit as the one soul of the "whole. 
 Whence it follows that we are to seek the union of the 
 Church, not only by the Spirit, hwt for the Spirit; that union 
 is not to be regarded as an end, but only as a means to 
 a further end. As the Spirit of light. He would illuminate 
 our judgments, and make us one in the belief of fundamental 
 truth ; as the Spirit of love, He Vv'Ould render a oneness in 
 more than fundamental truth unnecessary ; and then, as the 
 Spirit of life. He would actuate the entire body of the faith- 
 ful in one undivided effort for the glory of God, and speedily 
 give the world to its instrumentality ! 
 
 Oh, had we an adequate impression of the value of 
 union, we should feel that the collected and united prayers 
 of the whole Christian world would not be equal to 
 the magnitude of the blessing, or to the ardour of our 
 desires after it. If we knew the might of united prayer, 
 we should pant to behold a convocation of all the Churches 
 of Christendom, in the persons of .their ministers and 
 representatives, j^i^O'^^i^i'^^^te in the fervour of believing and 
 importunate suj)j)lication. If we knew hov/ complacently 
 
THE CONYEliiSlOl^ OF THE AYOELD. 331 
 
 God, from tlie throne of His glory, would look down on 
 such a scene, or even on the least apj)roximation to it — 
 how emphatically the Blessed Spirit is appointed to honour 
 it before the eyes of the universe — ^liow full the heavens are 
 at this moment of His waiting influence — how inevitably the 
 salvation of a ruined world would ensue — could we stand 
 aloof from each other any longer ? A voice would go forth 
 from every section of the Christian community, saying, in 
 brotherly, burning accents, " Come, and let us go speedily to 
 pray before the Lord. " The universal Church, like " the 
 city of the E2:)hesians," in reference to " the great goddess 
 Diana/' would become one worshipper, so completely would 
 all their souls be turned into desire, and all tliat desire flow 
 in one channel, for the gifc of the great Uniting Spirit. 
 From such a scene Christ could not be absent. There would 
 He be in the midst of them. There would He be to breathe 
 on them, and say, " Receive ye the Holy Ghost." By one 
 and the same act, tlieij would receive the crowning gift of 
 the Christian dispensation, and He the fiiliilment of His 
 final prayer — for they all would be one. 
 
 In addition to all these means of promoting Christian 
 union, or rather with a view of bringing them into operation, 
 the apostle would enjoin it on all ministers of the Gospel to 
 look on themselves as the appointed peacemakers of the 
 Christian Church. How anxiously does He remind a Timothy 
 and a Titus that it is the office of the ministry, partly to 
 warn the Church against divisions — to rebuke its self-willed 
 and contentious troublers — to soothe its feverish throbbings 
 with the healing hand of love! They are, indeed, to maintain 
 the truth; but they are to be seen speaking, or, literally, 
 " maintaining the truth in love " — ^not mixing up their own 
 imhallowed j^assions with it, and calling it zeal for God; but 
 maintaining it in a spirit which shall win esteem, instead of 
 alienating it. Let them follow the example of the apostle 
 Paul in Mh ministry — preaching Christ cnicifxcd — glorying 
 in it as a ministry of reconciliation — an institution for 
 
So2 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOE 
 
 restoring men to Gocl, and to each otlier in Him. Let tliem 
 copy liini in his epistolary correspondence ; and what were 
 his letters to the Churches, but proclamations of peace — 
 edicts from the throne of love — commanding Christians, as 
 they valued the royal favour of the King of Saints, and 
 hoj^ed for a cro-\vn above, to love one another? Let them 
 imitate him in his healing conduct towards those whose 
 differences are only circumstantial, by sending them together 
 to gaze at the Cross — by habitually exhibiting and exalting 
 Christ before their eyes, as their commo;ti centre, and tlieir 
 only hope; remembering that little things occuj)y the atten- 
 tion only owing to the absence of great ones — that " our 
 Church'' is a little thing, compared with our Lord — and 
 " our denomination " a trifle, compared with our common 
 salvation; that if those they address are saved, they will be 
 saved, not as Baptists, Independents, or Episcopalians, but 
 as Christians — not as members of a particular Church, but 
 as belonging to the Church universal. Let them copy him 
 in his magnanimity towards Ms schismatic rivals; rejoicing 
 that Christ is preached by them, though from envy and strife 
 — offering to co-operate, and actually assisting, in every 
 endeavour calculated to enlarge the kingdom of Christ — and, 
 instead of eyeing the prosperity of other Churches askance, 
 while all heaven is rejoicing at it, sympathizing in that 
 prosperity, and thus making it their own. Let them imitate 
 his prayers, wrestling with God in private for the peace and 
 unity of His Church — deploring, in 2)U-hlic, the existence of 
 so many barriers to the free and general communion of the 
 Church — confessing its divisions as its scarlet sin — admonish- 
 ing their people to pray for the impartation of the Holy 
 Spirit, as the only and infallible remedy, and taking every 
 opportunity of associating with the ministers of other deno- 
 minations in acts of united prayer for a united Church; 
 remembering that the Great Intercessor above prays not for 
 a party — that the names of all the tribes are engraven on 
 His breastplate — and that those prayers arc likely to be the 
 
THE CONVEEBIOlN OF THE W(JRLD. 333 
 
 most successful which most nearly resemble His o^vn. And 
 let them copy the apostle's example in often dwelling them- 
 selves on the final union of the whole Church, and leading 
 their people to the contemplation of the same stupendous 
 scene — picturing before their eyes the glories of that day, 
 when every party appellation will be forgotten or lost in the 
 great Christian name, when they all shall be visibly one 
 in Him. Oh, how natural would a spirit of conciliation 
 become after gazing on such a scene ! As if v/e had come 
 down from witnessing the harmony of heaven — from seeing 
 those v^^lio once differed here bowing together before the 
 vision of God and of the • Lamb — how trifxing our necessary 
 concessions would appear, how certainly our union begin! 
 Let them do this, and diey shall be called " the repairers of 
 the breach, the restorers of paths to dv/ ell in/' 
 
 VL 
 
 What, then, sixthly, are the motives which should induce 
 us to unite ? They are so cogent, that the least of them all is 
 infinitely greater than all the reasons which can be adduced 
 against it — so 7nany and various, that no single mind can 
 collect and combine them — so affecting and weighti/, that, 
 although the wisest and the holiest men have in all ages 
 united to enforce them with tears and entreaties, they never 
 have had, never can have, full justice done to them — so sacred, 
 that their seat is in the bosom of God — so mst, that they 
 measure with the universe ; and so deeply laid in the j^urposes 
 of God, that the great object of the advent itself — the salva- 
 tion of the world— is suspended on their taking effect. 
 • What, for instance, was the design of the whole Gospel 
 economy? The angels who heralded the incarnation of 
 Christ, announced that its object was, "Peace on earth, good 
 will towards men/' And shall Christians — the intended 
 peace-makers of the w^orld — so far from fulfilling their office, 
 be unable to settle the preliminaries of even a truce among 
 themselves ? Is not every inspired injunction of mutual for- 
 
334 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR 
 
 bearance among Christians a scriptural argument for tlie 
 unity of the Church ? And shall they who are commanded 
 to love even their enemies, shew that they have not Chris- 
 tianity enough to hear with their friends ? Shall they whose 
 religion requires them to pray for their persecutors, shew that 
 that they have not religion enough even to pray mtli their 
 brethren of another denomination ? Is this to " forbear one 
 another in love V Has not Christ himself laid His new com- 
 mand on us, that we love one another ? and proposed His own 
 example as the pattern of our love, "As I have loved you, 
 that ye love one another?'' intimating at once how rich it 
 should be in its fruits, and how ample in its embrace ; and 
 did He not wait till the cross was in view before He enacted 
 it, thus making it peculiarly the law of Calvary? Oh, if 
 Christians did but remember that they cannot turn away 
 from each other without turning their backs on their dying 
 Lord — ^without rudely violating the only new command which 
 His lips of love ever uttered — ^without sullenly disregarding 
 a request which came forth with His blood — ^with what 
 mutual concessions would they api^roach each other and 
 embrace ! " Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to 
 love one another !" How agreeable would our unity be to 
 the Blessed Trinity in unity ! Hence our Saviour prayed, 
 " That they all might be one; as Thou, Father, art in me, and I 
 in Thee, that they also may be one in us/' How suitable, I 
 say, that those who have to ascribe their salvation to a plan 
 in which the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit have 
 united their infinite perfections, should themselves unite in 
 a community of active love ! And how supremely agreeable 
 to the Blessed Trinity, looking down from the throne of 
 infinite glory, to behold the image oi their own inefi'able 
 union reflected back in the intimate aiid indissoluble oneness 
 of the Christian Church ! 
 
 How eminently would our union tend to enlighten and 
 harmonize our views on those points which are now the 
 sources of division ! How greatly would it promote the 
 
THE CONVEESION OF THE WOELD. 335 
 
 piety of the Churcli ! Having put away the toys and trifles 
 which now engage our attention, and occasion our disputes, 
 we should feel with much greater force than ever the influ- 
 ence of high motives — we should be thrown directly on all 
 that is vast, ennobling, and pure, in the objects of our faith. 
 Breath now wasted in controversy would then be turned into 
 the incense of prayer. Christian intercourse w^ould then be, 
 what it ever should have been, a religious ordinance — an 
 exercise of mutual benevolence — a channel of grace. And the 
 only spirit invoked in the Church w^ould be the Spirit of grace. 
 In a variety of ways the union of Christians would gTcatly 
 increase their cajmcity for usefulness. Union is strength : 
 a city, or a kingdom, becomes powerfid in proportion as its 
 parts act in concert ; and so is it with the Christian Church. 
 Talent wdiich is now" consuming itself in the flames of angry 
 controversy, would then be sanctified and set at liberty for a 
 holier office. Zeal would come from one part of the Church 
 to be directed by wisdom from another part. Eesources 
 which, divided, are not equal to the religious cultivation of a 
 country, would, wdien united, be equal to an attempt on a con- 
 tinent. And having made the attempt, instead of fearing in 
 every Christian stranger that aj^proached our sj^here of lab Om- 
 an agent from a rival Church, deputed to supplant us, we 
 should view him as a reinforcement of our spiritual strength, 
 and hail him as a brother beloved. But especially would 
 union increase their capacity for usefulness, by increasing 
 their capacity for the reception and operation of that Holy 
 Spirit luho alone can croiun their activity with success. In 
 order that the slain in the vaUey of vision might become an 
 efficient body, it was necessary that bone should come to his 
 bone — that life should enter into each body separately — that 
 they should fall into order, with a view to the union and 
 organization of the whole — and then, as " an exceeding great 
 army,'' a skilfid leader alone was wanting to lead them forth 
 to universal conquest. Let Christians unite — let them form 
 an organized body, which the Spirit can animate as the soul 
 
336 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOR ^ 
 
 of tlie Cliurcli, and He will lead tliem fortli to conquest, 
 terrible as an army witli banners. 
 
 Siicli a union could not fail to strike tlie world with awe. 
 Wlietlier it were announced by a jDublic manifesto from tlie 
 united Cliurclies or not, so remarkable an event could not ftiil 
 to arrest the j^ublic attention. To see Christians, who had 
 long been separated, merging their differences and sacrificing 
 their predilections, for the sole object of diffusing their com- 
 mon faith, could not fail to conciliate the prejudiced, to con- 
 found the caviller, and to bring more honour on religion than 
 it has received since the days of the martyrs. 
 
 But not merely would it arrest the j^ublic eye, it would 
 assail and affect the public heart. The v/orld would not be 
 left long to speculate and wonder about it. They would find 
 that the Church had united for an object — that that object 
 was themselves — that they were assailed on all sides by the 
 united and irresistible forces ol love. The Spirit himself 
 would be the leader of the Christian hosts — His sword, the 
 weapon they employed — His inspiration animating them to 
 the fight — and His power crowning them v/ith success. 
 Scenes c. apostolic triumph would be witnessed again. 
 Jesus would see of the travail of His soul, and be satisfied 
 — ^for manldnd, convinced that such a union of love in a 
 selfish world could only be resolved into a heavenly cause, 
 would believe at length that God had sent Him, and would 
 gratefully capitulate to His offered grace. From all this 
 would necessarily result a vast accession to our happiness. 
 Haj^py, indeed, we may now be comparatively in the favour 
 of God; but how much happier shall we then be in the 
 superadded favour of all His people — for in their sympathy 
 we should find the reflection of His smiles, and an additional 
 channel in which His love might flow; to tlie joys of inter- 
 nal communion would be added those of external triumph. 
 Our joy would be the joy of harvest — a harvest of immortal 
 souls gathered in to Christ — the joy which angels feel over 
 one repenting sinner, multiplied by the numbers which would 
 
' THE CONVERSION OF THE WORLD. 337 
 
 then be added to the Church daily — tlie joy of Christ him- 
 self, for in His satisfaction and glory we shonld find our 
 own. Of such a Church, God himself would not be ashamed. 
 Answering as it would to His great idea. He would pro- 
 nounce it good. He would rejoice over it with singing. In 
 the light of His countenance its millennial day would begin. 
 Nothing that could augment its prosperity would be with- 
 held. No gift that could enrich it — no honour that could 
 distinguish it in the eyes' of the world would be deemed too 
 costly to confer. A great voice out of heaven would be heard 
 saying, " The tabernacle of God is with men, and He will 
 dwell among them.'' 
 
 And is it of all this that our divisions are depriving us? 
 They are depriving us of more — of all that hap2:)iness which 
 the fruits of our union would produce in the final judgment 
 and in eternity ! Yes, they are casting their shadows forwards 
 into eternity ! They are not only impairing our usefulness 
 now, but, in consequence, they are dimming the radiance of 
 the crowns to be assigned us then ! And for what '? Who 
 is to be the gainer? What is the compensation? Which is 
 the party benefited? Assemble the Church, and inquire. 
 Surely, if any advantage is ever to accrue, it must by this 
 time have appeared. Fifteen hundred years have been 
 allowed the Church to try the virtues of division. Summon 
 the Church, and ascertain what these virtues are. Alas! 
 some of its members are too deeply embroiled with each 
 other to heed the call. And of those that do, some refuse 
 to approach, lest they should come into too familiar contact 
 with the Christians of other denominations. And is this 
 the religion of love? Are these the descendants of the men 
 who were so lavish of their affections and then- lives, that 
 hostility itself was often disarmed, and their enemies turned 
 into champions and friends? Is this the Church which was 
 to make the circuit and conquest of the world, gathering up 
 trophies at every step, and returning at length laden with 
 many crowns for Him who had caused her to triumph in 
 
 Y 
 
338 THE UNION OF THE CHUECH FOE * 
 
 every place? Alas! how often, and to what a wide extent 
 has she herself been worsted and disgraced ! Is this the body 
 which was to be made one by the inhabiting and all-jDervading 
 Spirit, and of whose unity the most intimate and compacted 
 objects in nature were considered the most appropriate 
 emblems? Alas! the body is so dislocated, dismembered, 
 and mangled, that it has become another valley of dry bones 
 — and another resurrection is alone adequate to its condition. 
 And was it for this that divinity 'and humanity met in the 
 person of the Son of God? Was it for this He bowed His 
 head upon the cross, to shew that God is love? Was it for 
 this He instituted a Church — prayed for its miity — endowed 
 it with His Spirit, and gave to it the world as the scene of 
 its triumphs? Our hearts feel that it was not. The sighs 
 of numbers mourning in secret over the blighted peace, the 
 prostrate energy, the humbled honour of the Church, assure 
 us that it was not. All the unreclaimed, neglected, perishing 
 parts of the world protest that it was not. Shame, equal 
 shame on the Jews who crucified the Son of God, and on 
 Christians who, in the person of His members, are still 
 crucifying Him afresh, and putting Him to an open shame. 
 Blessed Saviour ! we need that Thou shouldest offer for us the 
 prayer which Thou didst for Thy murderers, " Father, forgive 
 them, for they know not what they do.'' 
 
 Christians, was the apostle too passionate in his entreaty of 
 the Corinthians, when he besought them, for Christ's sake, 
 to heal their divisions ? Supposing he foresaw only a mil- 
 lionth part of the evils which would spring from disunion, 
 was he disproportionately concerned when he endured an 
 agony of solicitude for the peace of the Church at Colosse ? 
 Would an entreaty less moving, or a concern less profound 
 have suited the magnitude of the occasion ? Where, then, is 
 the anguish which would equal the divisions of the Church 
 now'? Brethren, there is not an object in creation which 
 does not sympathize in his solicitude for our peace ; there is 
 not a holy intelligence in the universe which does not join in 
 
THE CONVERSION OF THE WOELD. 839 
 
 an entreaty, urging us, for Christ's sake, to unite and be one. 
 They are all interested in it — from Him who sits upon the 
 throne — through all the circles of the blessed — and down 
 through every rank of this lower creation, groaning and wait- 
 ing to be delivered — all have a momentous stake in the union 
 of the Church, and entreat us, for Christ's sake, to be one. 
 
 Christians, you are not insensible to sights of suffering — 
 you could not look on a bleeding human form without 
 emotion. See, then, that majestic but lacerated form which 
 comes before us — it is the mangled form of Divine Chris- 
 tianity — her garments torn, her person womided, and life 
 streaming out at every wound. And as she turns on us a 
 mournful and imploring aspect, each of these wounds entreats 
 us to unite. Shall we stanch them, or shall we answer by 
 the infliction of fresh wounds? Before she quits our presence, 
 a voice from afar comes j^ealing on our ear — the cry of the 
 superstitious, seeking ease of mind in self-inflicted torture of 
 body — of the conscience-stricken idolater, asking if there be a 
 Savioiu" from despair — of the dying on the shores of eternity, 
 asking, but asking in vain, of the dark unknown before them, 
 — all combining and beseeching us to unite and hasten to 
 their relief In aid of their entreaty comes a voice from the 
 past — not merely from the depths of dungeons, the flames of 
 martyrs, and the ruins of Christian temples — a sound of 
 more solemn and appalling imjiort — the voice of the myriads 
 who, through the divisions and neglect of the Cliurch, have 
 gone down to final destruction — entreating us to imite and 
 to send unto their brethren, lest they also come to the place 
 of torment. And shall all these entreaties be made to us in 
 vain? But above and beyond them all, a voice may be heard 
 whose every accent should thrill through the universal Chm-ch 
 — it is the voice of the great Intercessor within the veil, still 
 praying, still j^leading, " that they aU might be one.'' And 
 shall He pray thus alone?- Will not His peoj^le join Him? 
 Shall not Church after Church unite in the prayer, till the 
 entire body of believers have joined Him ? Oh, haj)py day for 
 
340 THE UNION OF THE CHURCH, ETC. 
 
 eartli — the first of the millennium ! And happy clay for heaven 
 — the first of a millennium there ; for the union of Christians 
 on earth would be the glory of the blessed in heaven ! 
 
 Christian ! you can assist to hasten it on. Your duty is 
 clear, definite, imperative. You are to become an agent, and 
 an element of Clmstian unity. The Church is divided; 
 resolve in the strength of God that, as far as you are con- 
 cerned, it shall not remain so — that, if it does, it shall not 
 be your fault. Christ is intercedhig for its unity; resolve 
 that you wiU daily join Him in the . entreaty. Souls are 
 ruined — the world is perishing through its divisions, and yet 
 on it will go for a time trying to save them by its divided 
 efforts — labouring to succeed without uniting. But no, 
 never; the plan is fixed by Him who changeth not — the 
 unity of the Church must jorecede the salvation of the world. 
 Publish it abroad. Be assured that those Christians who 
 differ most, are all one on this subject — they deske to save 
 their fellow-men. So that never can you insist on this 
 ground for union, without touching a chord which vibrates 
 through all their hearts alike. Resolve, therefore, to keep 
 this motive to union in view yourself, and to insist on it to 
 others — that the visible union of Christians must precede the 
 conversion of the world, for it is the appointed means by 
 which it is to take place. Their eventual union, remember, 
 is certain ; and oh, the glorious results of that union what 
 tongue can tell ! A triumphant Church — a converted world 
 — a glorified Redeemer — a rejoicing universe! But eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart imagined its glories 1 
 Enjoy it now by anticipation. Let it be the joy set before 
 you as it was before your Lord, and you will account no 
 labour too great, no sacrifice too costly, that can hasten its 
 arrival even by a moment. Act now, as you will wish ten 
 thousand ages hence you had acted; and from this day you 
 will seek to unite the Church for the conversion of the world, 
 and myriads of ages hence you will be still blessing God that 
 you did so. 
 
PKAYEE FOR CHIIIST. 34j1 
 
 SEKMON XV. 
 
 PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 Psalm Ixxii. 15 — "And he shall live; and to him shall be given of the gold 
 of Sheba : prayer also shall be made for him continuall}' ; and daily 
 shall he be praised." 
 
 David, having received certain premonitions of his aj)proach- 
 ing end, had now resigned the throne of Israel to Solomon, 
 his son. The elders and nobles of the land had recoonized 
 
 o 
 
 and accepted the change. Transported with joy at the event, 
 he pours out his soul in prayer for the youthful king and the 
 subject people. But, behold, a Greater than Solomon is 
 here ! Eapt in a Divine enthusiasm, the Psalmist ascends to 
 a loftier theme, and sings the glory of Messiah, and the 
 magnificence of His future reign. 
 
 I. 
 
 The text is a prediction ; reminding us. in the first place, 
 that the Bible is distinguished from every other book, pro- 
 fessedly Divine, by the gTandeur and the authoritative tone 
 of its promises, and by the multitude and splendour of its 
 predictions. Hmnan philosophy may be said to have had 
 three creeds; which might not improperly be distinguished 
 as the creed of the past, of the present, and of the future. 
 The books of Pagan antiquity sung only of the golden-aged 
 past — of scenes of pastoral simplicity and happiness never 
 to return; while, for the future, they could say nothing— 
 their burden was despair. Then came the creed of the pre- 
 
342 PEAYEK FOR CHEIST. 
 
 sent. As early antiquity faded from view, man became 
 prepared for the philosophy of Epicurus — for the optimism 
 wliich professes to be satisfied with things as they are; and 
 which, instead of aiming at human imj^rovement, acts on the 
 animal maxim, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." 
 But to this has now generally succeeded the creed of the 
 future — a philosojDhical belief in the perfectibility of the 
 species — a persuasion that man is, at length, on the high 
 road to perfection. 
 
 Now, it would be easy to shew that each of these views is 
 only a perversion of some fundamental truth contained in 
 the Bible. But, then, it will be found, that in the Bible 
 those truths exist in combination, and that everything which 
 is there said of the past, or of the present, is said expressly 
 for the sake of the future. Thus, the contentment with the 
 present which it inculcates is not that kind of satisfaction 
 which hopes and asks for nothing better, but that which 
 springs from a comprehensive view of the Divine plans for 
 the renovation of the world; which admires those plans as 
 the wisest and the best; and which thus prepares us to 
 become patient and persevering instruments in the hands 
 of God for their fulfilment. Then, again, if the Bible tells 
 of the past — if it sings of a Paradise lost — it is only to pre- 
 pare us to hear of a better Paradise regained. Yes; the 
 Bible is the true prophet of hope ; it builds on the future, 
 and the chorus of all its songs is of a glory yet to come. 
 
 But if — it may be said — if human philosophy is beginning 
 to calculate on the future, it is at length moving in harmony 
 with the Word of God. This, alas! is but very partially 
 true. The Church and the world are indeed looking in the 
 same direction, but far different is the result they aim at; 
 and, as to the means on which they chiefly rely, they essen- 
 tially disagree. 
 
 II. 
 
 For, secondly, the text reminds us that one of the means 
 
PRAYER FOR CHRIST. 343 
 
 wliicli the Church is to employ for the attainment of the 
 desired result is iwayer. Now, here we are at issue with a 
 sceptical philosophy at the very outset. For while that 
 philosophy would object to prayer as inconsistent with the 
 doctrine of the Divine unchangeableness, lue not only employ 
 it, but rely on it; we even rely on it in the order of means 
 as the first ; and, according to the text, we are to employ it 
 continually — never to allow the instrument to pass out of 
 our hands for a moment. 
 
 We do not say that prayer has any inherent efficacy to 
 move God : like every other means — like the food we eat — it 
 derives its efficacy from the sovereign appointment of God. 
 But we do say, that prayer is a condition on which it seems 
 good to God to put forth His power. We do say, that we 
 can conceive of certain reasons which may make it agreeable 
 to Perfect Wisdom to grant that to prayer, which it may not 
 seem agreeable to grant in the absence of prayer. And, 
 beyond this, we would remind the objector that, clearly as 
 the law of the Divine unchangeableness may be revealed in 
 the Bible — and it is only from the Bible that he can have 
 learned it — the law that prayer prevails with God is revealed, 
 if possible, more clearly and convincingly still. So that tlie 
 question comes to this : — Will he wisely embrace both these 
 laws, and confidently leave it to God to reconcile them with 
 His own Divine consistency? or, if he adoj^ts but one, 
 which will he prefer? — the less obvious law — that which 
 relates to the unfathomable nature of God? — or the more 
 plain and simple law, made in love to man — that which 
 includes the sacred duty and the ennobling privilege of 
 prayer ? At all events, while he is engaged in a philosophic 
 endeavour to reconcile prayer with his imperfect views of the 
 Divine consistency, he will allow us to be occujned in admi- 
 ration of that Divine condescension, which has made it both 
 natui'al for man to pray, and certain that scriptural jDrayer 
 shall be crowned with success. Yes ; we would remind him, 
 that disordered and ruined as our nature is, there are clear 
 
344} PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 indications still tliat man was originally made to pray. For 
 even they who have practically renoimced religion — who 
 have lived in the entire neglect of all the various modes by 
 which man approaches and adores his Maker — even they, in 
 the moment of danger or suffering, are generally foimd to 
 call involuntarily on God for help. The voice of nature, at 
 such times, will speak out — will not allow itself to be 
 smothered and silenced any longer — -will cause itself to be 
 heard. Overpowering those prejudices and th^^t uTcligion 
 which had hitherto repressed it, it wiU lift icself up, assert 
 the presence, the power, and the goochiess of God, and 
 earnestly invoke His favourable interposition. 
 
 And we would remind him also i^hat the prayer of faith 
 invariably succeeds. If his philosophy be sound, he will 
 surely yield to the power of fects ; and if facts can convince 
 him, the Bible abounds with undeniable examples of successful 
 prayer. "Every one that asketh, receiveth,'' saith Christ; as 
 if He had said, " Prayer has all the certainty and universality 
 of a law — a law which can never know an exception ; every 
 one that asketh receiveth.'' My brethren, in the whole 
 compass of divinely-appointed means, prayer occupies the 
 highest place, and possesses the mightiest efficacy. And 
 why? It passes by all secondary means, and makes its way 
 straight to God; it puts aside every human hand, and goes 
 at once to the arm of God ; enters the presence of the Eternal, 
 and makes its appeal to His throne. There it enables the 
 suppliant to take hold of the strength of God, and, in a sense, 
 identifies him with almighty power. Nor is the efficacy of 
 prayer confined to the supj^liant himself It places him in a 
 new relation to all around him. Prayer is an invisible chain 
 by which He can draw them towards heaven. It in vests. Hun 
 with an indefinite power over the destmy and haj^piaess of 
 the world at large. 
 
 \Ye repeat, then, that while the world is at length looking 
 in the same direction as the Church, far different are the 
 objects they aim at, and the principal means which they 
 
PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 345 
 
 employ. For while prayer is the last instrument which a 
 scei^tical philosophy would employ, we not only employ, but 
 rely on it ; and, believing what we do of its power with God, 
 we should be inconsistent and guilty if we did not place it, in 
 the order of means, as first and best. And believing what 
 we do, too, of the utter inefficiency of mere human means to 
 renovate the world, and of the power of prayer to secure the 
 omnipotent aid of God, we cannot help thinking that the 
 time has come when the charge of indulging romantic views 
 concerning the future improvement of man should be 
 removed from the Church — where it has been so long and so 
 unjustly laid — and be transferred to the world. Tor, while 
 the world is indulging the visionary hope of changing the face 
 of society by mere human agency, the Church of God, without 
 abating a jot in its laborious practical efforts, invokes the 
 almighty aid of God as the only and the all-sufficient source 
 of success. 
 
 III. 
 
 But not only does the text predict a change, and repre- 
 sent prayer as a means of realizing that change ; it describes 
 that prayer, thirdly, as partaking of a specific character — 
 as prayer for Christ; "prayer also shall be made for Him 
 continually.'' 
 
 But what are the claims of Christ on the prayers of those 
 who are seeking the happiness of the v/orld? The propriety 
 of praying for the success of another dej)ends entirely on the 
 nature of his undertaking. Now, the nature of the Saviour's 
 undertaking is simply this. The world was perishing in 
 ignorance, guilt, and pollution. To recover the knowledge of 
 God, which it had lost, a teacher from heaven was necessary; 
 to expiate its guilt, an adequate atonement must be made; 
 to cleanse it from pollution, a fountain must be opened for 
 sin and for uncleanness. To provide either of these requisites, 
 the world was as unable as it was indisposed; and yet all oi 
 them must be provided, or man must everlastingly perish. 
 
346 PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 Filled with compassion for us, tlioiigh we were His enemies, 
 tlie Son of God descended from lieaven, to do everything 
 for us necessary to our recovery. To become our Teacher, He 
 assumed our nature, dwelt amongst us, and spake as never 
 man spake; to expiate our guilt, He died in our stead; and 
 to cleanse us from the pollution of sin, He provided for us 
 the agency of the Divine Spirit. Having made this ample 
 provision for the salvation of mankind, it now remains that 
 the Gospel be made known, and be cordially embraced. The 
 Almighty Father has promised that, in reward for the 
 mediation of His well-beloved Son, it shall be made known 
 universally, and effectually applied. " Ask of me, and I will 
 give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost 
 parts of the earth for thy possession.'' " He shall see of the 
 travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied.'' The Saviour 
 desires to enjoy this reward; He declares that He will draw 
 all men unto Him; that He will save the very ends of the 
 earth. And can you conceive of stronger claims on our 
 j)rayers than these? 
 
 Did we consult only the temporal welfare of men, the 
 speediest and most effectual method of promotmg even that 
 would be to send them the Gospel. The history of our 
 missions demonstrates that nothing lifts them out of a state 
 of barbarism into a state of civilization so certainly and so 
 completely as that. It calls them together, gives them a 
 Sabbath, throv»^s a shield over their property, blesses them 
 with liberty, and puts them under the protection of govern- 
 ment and law; and thus it lays a foundation for all civil 
 improvement and social hai^piness. But if we design to 
 promote their spiritual welfare, the Gospel is the only means. 
 Here there can be no competition — no rival — no question ; 
 the Gospel is the only remedy for a perishing world. Com- 
 pared with its wisdom, every other system is foolishness; for 
 it is the wisdom of God. Compared with its power to sway 
 the heart, all other strength is weakness ; for it is the power 
 of God. Compared with its truth and pmity — its majesty 
 
PEAYEE FOE CHEIST. 347 
 
 and grace — Moliammedanism is an imposture and a pollu- 
 tion ; modern Judaism, a ceremony and a fable ; Paganism, a 
 falsehood and a debasement; Deism, an unsubstantial sliadow ; 
 and Atheism, a darkness and a horror, "Lord, to whom 
 shall we o-o but unto thee, for thou hast the words of eternal 
 life!" Yes; " this is hfe eternal, to know thee the only true 
 God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." This alone 
 can ease the conscience burdened with guilt; cleanse the 
 heart defiled with sin; wipe the tear from the eye of the 
 mourner; and sanctify and conduct the soul to the joys of 
 heaven. But the Gospel can do this, for it is the revela- 
 tion of One whose arm is almighty to save, and whose 
 heart has room for the world. Such — such, then, are the 
 claims of Christ on the prayers of His people. He is the 
 Healer of a diseased and a dying world; and if we have felt 
 His power to save, He claims our prayers that His saving 
 health may be known among all nations ; that the healing 
 influence of the Gospel, like a heavenly current of vital air, 
 may sweep over the spiritual sickness of the world, imparting 
 life, and health, and universal happiness. He is the Champion 
 of our race, who has espoused our cause against sin, and 
 death, and hell; and shall not this be our ardent prayer, 
 " Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, most mighty, with thy 
 glory and thy majesty. And in thy majesty ride prosperously, 
 because of truth, and meekness, and righteousness, and thy 
 right hand shall teach thee terrible things"? 
 
 IV. 
 
 And here, in the fourth place, let us mark and admire the 
 wisdom and grace of the arrangement which makes it our 
 duty to seek the salvation of the world in this specific manner 
 — by prayer for the prosperity of the reign of Christ. 
 
 1. There is wisdom in the arrangement which makes 
 missionary success to depend on prayer in general. It brings 
 us to the one spot, and keeps us in our only proper place in 
 the universe— at the feet of God. It tends to annihilate self 
 
348 PRAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 — amounts to a confession of our utter dependence — renders 
 appro^Driate homage to His greatness — and thus keeps us in 
 active and constant communication with the Fountain of 
 Grace. 
 
 2. But by calling us to His footstool to pray specifically 
 for the prosperity of the reign of Christ, He is giving us an 
 opportunity of avovring afresh our admiration of the scheme 
 of redemption by Christ. To offer up such a prayer is to 
 say, in effect, that we ourselves have made joroof of the Cross 
 of Christ — that we believe there is no hope for the world 
 but through that Cross — and that so satisfied are we of its 
 healing efficacy, that were all the world to feel its power, all 
 the world would be saved, and heaven begin on earth. Now, 
 to say this is at once to gratify the love of the Christian, 
 and the very heart of God. 
 
 3. By this arrangement, too, the supjDliant is afforded the 
 strongest assurance of success in prayer. God is not unfre- 
 quently pleased to be found of them even that sought Him 
 not ; when, therefore, we do seek Him, we may calculate on 
 His hearing us with the utmost certainty — but when we 
 apply to Him on the behalf of the reign of Christ, the cer- 
 tainty of being heard is, if possible, increased. The cause 
 of Christ lies infinitely nearer to His heart than it does, than 
 it can do, to ours. It is the cause which His own compassion 
 prompted, and His own wisdom devised. It is the cause 
 with which He has bound up His own glory — on which He 
 has lavished the resources of heaven — and to the success of 
 which He has pledged every perfection of His nature. So 
 that, in praying on the behalf of Christ, the believer is taking 
 his stand on the immutable covenant of God — he prays with 
 the force of an Almighty decree — he puts his hand to the 
 propulsion of a cause which is destined to move forwards 
 with the force of Omnipotence. 
 
 4. And by this arrangement, too, every believer — the 
 poorest and the obscurest — is afforded an opj^ortunity of 
 indulgmg his supreme love to Christ, by aiding the advance- 
 
PEAYEE FOE CHEIST. 349 
 
 ment of His kingdom. " To them that believe He is precious" 
 — so precious, that in their holiest and happiest moments 
 they feel as if every mode of expressing it, which they at 
 present possess, were inadequate — as if they must wait for 
 the perfection of heaven, and the duration of eternity, before 
 they begin. However ample the resources we may now 
 possess for shewing our sense of obligation to Christ, the 
 great proportion of behevers have to deplore how truly small 
 is the gift they can lay on His altar — how little is the time 
 which they can give to His service — how circumscribed is the 
 influence which their obscurity of station permits them to 
 exert for His glory. Christian, the throne of grace is open 
 — open to you — open to all. Wise and gracious arrange- 
 ment! "Here," you may say, "here I can gratify my love 
 to Christ, and give a loose to all the ardour of my souL 
 Poor I may be in the world's account — but here I can pour 
 out at His feet the wealth of my affections. Busy I may be 
 in the service of ma;n — but here I can repair in thought and 
 desire, and serve Him continually. And let my influence 
 with man be as limited as it may — here I can come and 
 have power with God. While others are engaged in pleading 
 for Christ with men — here I can plead for Him with God — 
 here I can vie with an apostle. While a Paul is planting, 
 and an Apollos is watering — here I can aid them both by 
 bringing do^vn the increase." 
 
 Yes, here all may assist — the youngest and the eldest, the 
 poorest and the most obscure. To serve the Church with 
 munificent gifts and splendid talents is not within the com- 
 pass of your power. Nor can you, perhaps, benefit the 
 world, by going forth to proclaim the Gospel — but the tear 
 of the closet — the sigh of sorrow over the guilt of the world 
 — the secret prayer for the reign of Christ — these are within 
 your scojoe, and these are the elements of missionary success. 
 By these you can touch the spring and source of all motion 
 — and on that depends the final realization of our lio^DCS in 
 the conversion of the nations to the faith of Christ. 
 
350 PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 
 
 V. 
 
 But, fifthly, let us regard tlie esi^ecial object of our prayer 
 in tlie behalf of Christ: what are we to pray for? Our 
 prayers cannot be necessary for Him, in the same sense in 
 which they are necessary for ourselves, and for each other. 
 He knows no want, for all things are given into His hands. 
 He is no more the subject of pain, for He is not only ineffably 
 happy in himself, but also the fountain of happiness to all 
 the inhabitants of the heavenly world. He is infinitely 
 removed beyond the reach of danger and of death ; for as 
 the Khio; of Zion He exercises imcontrolled dominion over the 
 universe. Personally considered, therefore. He is quite inde- 
 pendent of ©ur prayers. Personally considered, indeed, we 
 are to pray to Him, rather than/o?^ Him. The prayer, then, 
 that is to be made for Him is not to be made for Him per- 
 sonally, but relatively — on account of His relation to other 
 beings — His relation to us. 
 
 In this point of view, the object of our prayer for Christ 
 will necessarily vary with the varying state of His cause. A 
 time of error in doctrine, or of laxity in discipline — a state of 
 division among His servants, or of apathy in His service — a 
 season of adversity or of prosperity — calls for a corresponding 
 strain of supplication. But there is one object which it is always 
 seasonable to implore, and which should always occupy the 
 chief place in our petitions — the great blessing of the present 
 dispensation — the eff"usion of the Spirit of Christ. Brethren, 
 this is necessary — and this is all that is necessary! Why 
 was it that the preaching of the apostles was so much more 
 successful than the preaching of their Lord, though He spake 
 as never man spake ? Because when He ascended up on high, 
 and received gifts for men. He poured out the Spirit upon 
 their labours in the full measure of the Christian dispensa- 
 tion. Why is it that the preaching of the present day, though, 
 generally speaking, it is the preaching of the Cross, is attended 
 with no greater success ? It is because there is not a pro- 
 
PEAYER FOK CHEIST. 351 
 
 portionatG concern for the influence of the Spirit — and, 
 without that, the preaching of the Cross itself will be power- 
 less, for He it is who must take of the things of Christ, and 
 shew them efficaciously to the soul. 
 
 And how long shall this state of comparative barrenness 
 continue? " Until the Spirit be poured upon us from on high ; 
 then the wilderness will be a fruitful field, and the fruitful 
 field be counted for a forest/' Yes, in the scheme of salva- 
 tion, every instrument and agent has its appropriate place, . 
 and its apj)ointed order of succession. In that arrangement 
 the Spirit is the prime mover of the whole. Hence, the first 
 prayer of Christ on His ascension to heaven, was for the 
 efiusion of the Spirit ; till that was poured out from on high, 
 the work of redemption itself, though He had just pronounced 
 it finished, stood still ; but when it came, everj^thing was put 
 into motion — the world itself vibrated — the gates of hell 
 shook. 
 
 The first p"\ayer of the Church, then, should be for the 
 same object. Why is it — oh, let there be great searchings of 
 heart ! — why is it that the promised efi'usion of the Spirit is 
 withheld? Why is it that we are allowed to see only the 
 skirts of His garments, and not permitted to see His face? 
 Why is it that we enjoy only a few drops of that mighty 
 influence, of which, at this moment, the heavens are full? 
 " We have not, because we ask not, or because we ask amiss." 
 Individual Christians have not. — individual Churches have 
 not — the Church collectively has not yet duly felt its need of 
 that influence, nor sent up the prayer which is equal to bring 
 it down. 
 
 Oh, let that Spirit be sought for first as a Spirit of prayer ; 
 our prayers would infallibly draw down supplies of His 
 influence — these fresh supplies of His influence would as 
 certainly lead to increased prayer for still larger efl'usions of 
 His grace ; and thus, by action and reaction, our prayers 
 would continually enlarge in their progress, and insure 
 increased success in the cause of Christ. 
 
352 PEAYEE FOE CHEIST. 
 
 VL 
 
 But not only is prayer to be made for tlie reign of Christ 
 — the text predicts its continuity, or uninterruptedness ; 
 "prayer also shall be made for Him continually/' Under 
 the former dispensation, the fire which burnt upon the golden 
 altar was never allowed to go out — and the ardent desire of 
 the pious Israelites for the coming of Christ glowed con- 
 tinually on the altar of their hearts — it never went out. 
 And it is pleasing to reflect that, in the present day, there is 
 a sense in which it is true, literally, that prayer is made for 
 Him continually. " Last evening,'' writes a missionary from 
 China — " last evening, a small party of the disciples of Jesus 
 held a meeting for prayer in my rooms, in behalf of the 
 heathen around, and for the kino;dom of Christ throughout 
 the world. In this land of the rising sun we may probably 
 be considered as beginning that series of prayer-meetings 
 which are kept up all around the world on the first Monday 
 of the month — a chain of prayer beginning at the farthest 
 east, and carried round successively as the sun advances to 
 the farthest west, in the islands of the Pacific Ocean — and 
 thus continued for twenty-four hours monthly." 
 
 Now, it is only to pursue this mode of calculation — and to 
 suj^pose, that wherever there are Christians to pray monthly 
 in public for the kingdom of Christ, there are some to pray 
 daily in private for the same object — and then we are brought 
 to the delightful conclusion that prayer is made for Him 
 continually — that as the aged believer, like David, breathes 
 out his last prayer for the glory of His reign, another genera- 
 tion is just beginning to lis]D, "Thy Idngdom come" — and as 
 the Christians of one province are rising from their knees 
 before the throne of grace, the Christians of another province 
 are just beginning to take up the language of supplication 
 for Christ — and thus a chain of j^rayer, beginning in the 
 farthest east, is carried round with the sun to the farthest 
 west in the islands of the Pacific, through aU the hours of 
 
PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 353 
 
 time! And how much more j^leasing does this reflection 
 become when we add to it the thought, that of all the prayers 
 which are thus offered for Christ, making one continued 
 strain of supplication, not one ever has been, nor can be 
 lost ! Is it true that every sin committed by His enemies is 
 noticed by a God of unspotted holiness — that every trans- 
 gression adds something to the treasures of His wrath — and 
 that when the cup of vengeance is full, He pours it forth on 
 the heads of the guilty? As certainly true is it that every 
 prayer of faith offered by His people in behalf of His Son is 
 noticed by a God of infinite love — that every such prayer 
 adds something to the treasures of His grace — and that 
 when these treasures have accumulated to a certain amount, 
 He pours them forth upon the Church and the world. It 
 is as certainly true, that at the very moment when such a 
 prayer is offered, in that very moment He answers it in His 
 Divine intention, though He may wisely delay for a time to 
 answer it really. The suppliant himself may forget his own 
 supplication, or may despair of obtaining an answer — but He 
 is still mindful of it. And however obscure the suj^pliant. 
 He prizes it. It is prayer for His Son, and as such is music 
 in His ear, of which He loses not a single note. It is a 
 prayer for the coming of His kingdom — and as such. He 
 places it among the perfumed supj^lications already offered 
 by the saints of past generations — He places it among the 
 last aspirations breathed by David, the son of Jesse, and of 
 every ancient worthy — among the mighty prayers which 
 ascended from the fires of the early martyrs — among the 
 loud cries of those whose souls are heard from under the 
 altar — among the earnest entreaties of the wide creation 
 which sighs to be delivered from the bondage of corruption 
 into the glorious liberty of the sons of God. It is a i3rayer 
 for the salvation of a world which He loves — and with 
 delight He beholds it flow into a channel in which a stream 
 of prayer has been for ages flowing and accumulating without 
 a moments pause — and which shall finally overflow, and 
 
 z 
 
354 PEAYEE FOE CHEIST. ^ 
 
 pour forth a healing flood of heavenly grace over the whole 
 earth. Ye, then, that love the Lord, keep not silence. And 
 in all your entreaties for the kingdom of Christ, let your 
 loudest sui^plications ascend for the advent of His Spiiit. 
 If you would not grieve the Holy Spirit of God — if you 
 would do homage to the office which He holds in the plan of 
 the world's salvation — if you would do honour to the media- 
 tion of Christ by which the Spirit is given — pray continually 
 for Christ, by praying continually for His Spirit. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Observe, again, that prayer for Christ is to be offered con- 
 jointly with other things — "prayer also.'' In all conquered 
 lands, the subjection of the people was marked by two things 
 — their money was stamped with the name of the conqueror, 
 and they were obliged to pray for him in their public 
 worship. In allusion to this fact, it is here said of the con- 
 quering Saviour — " To Him shall be given of the gold of 
 Sheba, prayer also shall be made for Him continually." The 
 gold of Sheba — a portion of our worldly substance is to be 
 devoted to Him, in connexion with our prayers. For to pray 
 in His behalf, without accompanying the act with this proof 
 of our sincerity, would be as profane, as to use all other kind 
 of means except prayer would be impious. And who has 
 not at least a cup of cold water, or two mites to contribute 
 to His service, in connexion with a 23rayer for His glory ? 
 
 But we apprehend, that it is far more common for a man 
 to give without praying than it is for him to pray without 
 contributing. He may give a small pittance to the cause of 
 Christ, and the motive which leads him to do so may stop 
 there, without leading to anything beyond- But the motive 
 which leads him to become a suppliant for that cause at a 
 throne of grace, will operate to other effects. The love which 
 led him there will lead him, while there, to inquire, " Lord, 
 what wilt thou have me to do?" The zeal for Clnist which 
 led him there will not there exphe — it will there be fanned. 
 
PKAYER FOR CHRIST. 355 
 
 and fed, and rise into a flame, into which his property will 
 be cast, as one of the first and most appropriate offerings. 
 Prayer for Christ is one of the last efforts made for Him — we 
 are disposed to emulate each other in everything rather than 
 in prayer; and hence the importance of urging the duty, 
 since where this is performed, it evinces a disposition to 
 perform every other. 
 
 Brethren, do you contribute a portion of your property to 
 the Christian cause, but withhold your supplications from it? 
 Then the Church cannot rely on the continuance of your aid, 
 for it does not scoring from princijDle — and God himself 
 resents what you do as an affront offered to His Spirit. He 
 regards every power in the imiverse as more or less opposed 
 to Him, but the power of prayer, and the means which 
 prayer has sanctified. He views it as an attempt to do with- 
 out Him — as a hostile endeavour to contravene the great 
 principle of the Gospel of Christ, that not by might, nor by 
 power, but by His Spirit alone, the maladies of the world 
 shall be healed. 
 
 On the other hand, does the Christian cause press on your 
 heart? We will defy you to withhold your property from it. 
 Do you sympathize with Christ in the travail of His soul? 
 Oh, if that sympathy be sincere, it will turn your whole soul 
 into desire — it will convert your very gifts into j^rayers — Hke 
 the eastern magi, the act of falling down to adore Him, and 
 of pouring out at His feet gold, and frankincense, and myrrh, 
 will, with you, be one and the same. Do you sincerely pray 
 for the outpouring of the Spirit? In imploring that, you are 
 imploring a spirit of Christian liberality for yourself and for 
 the whole Church. You are, in effect, praying, that all the 
 powers of nature — all the resources of Providence — all the 
 wealth and greatness of the world, may be pressed into the 
 service of Christ. For only let the SjDirit be poured out 
 from on high, and it will enlist into His cause every species 
 of instrumentality which men j)ossess. " The abundance of 
 the sea shall be converted unto thee — the forces of the Gen- 
 
356 PPvAYEE FOE CHRIST. 
 
 tiles shall come unto thee — the multitude of camels shall 
 cover thee — the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah — all they 
 from Sheba shall come — they shall bring gold and incense; 
 and they shall shew forth the i3raises of the Lord/' Every- 
 thing will be brought as an exj^ression of love to Christ, and 
 to adorn His triumph. Nothing, nothing will be deemed 
 too costly for the great occasion. All majesty shall bow 
 before Him — kings shall wait in His train — the spoils of 
 earthly grandeur be laid at His feet — and Christ alone be 
 exalted in that day. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How many and how powerful the motives, then, which 
 should induce us to j)ray for the reign of Christ ! A sense 
 of consistency demands it. We call Him our king; and 
 shall we not be concerned for the prosperity of His kingdom? 
 A principle of benevolence to man requires it. The success 
 of His cause and human hai^piness are one. His voice is 
 the proclamation of pardon to the condemned, and of liberty 
 to the cajotive. His conquests are bloodless — achieved over 
 sin, and error, and the enemies of man. His trophies are 
 the souls of men, redeemed from the bondage of Satan, and 
 adorned with the beauties of holiness. His career is the 
 march of truth, and righteousness, and peace. Then, who 
 would not pray for His success? A j^rincijDle of gratitude 
 requires it. He has prayed for us with strong frying and 
 tears, or we should not, at this moment, be in a condition to 
 pray for ourselves. He gave Himself for us. And in 
 heaven He intercedes for us still. Yes, this is the order — 
 the manifest arrangement of infinite wisdom — that He should 
 intercede for the Church, while the Church intercedes for the 
 world. In the gracious fulfilment of His office, He prays 
 continually for us — the censer never quits His hand — the 
 incense perpetually rises — His priestly robes are never laid 
 aside. And shall we intermit our prayers for Him? Let a 
 sense of our obligation induce us to pray for Him. 
 
PEAYEE FOR CHEIST. 357 
 
 A regard for our o-v^ai welfare demands it. We cannot 
 pray for Him without drawing down a blessing on ourselves 
 — without enlarging our hearts — standing as in the counsels 
 of God — becoming Godlike. And thus every prayer which 
 ascends from His people in His behalf, like the vapour which 
 the earth sends up into the clouds, returns again in showers 
 of blessing into their own bosom. 
 
 Besides, prayer for the reign of Christ is in harmony with 
 the pervading spirit of the Gospel constitution. According 
 to that spirit, everything is made dependent on prayer, and 
 may be effected by it. What is the sacrifice of Christ him- 
 self, but prayer in its most concentrated, intense, and prevail- 
 ing form — the prayer of blood? Hence it is said, " He is 
 able to save unto the uttermost all that come unto God by 
 him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.'' 
 He has turned the merit of His sacrijfice into prayer. Inter- 
 cession, in His hands, is a chain fastened to the throne of 
 God — the stay and support of a sinking world ! Yes ; even 
 Christ has to pray, and by prayer succeeds. If He would 
 have the heathen to be His for an inheritance, He is directed 
 to ask to that effect. And, accordingly, He does ask. " For 
 Zion's sake," saith He, " I will not hold my peace; and for 
 Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until the righteousness 
 thereof go forth as brightness ; and the salvation thereof as a 
 lamp that burneth." And shall He pray for this object alone ? 
 He summons His Church to join Him. " Ye that make 
 mention of the Lord," saith He, " keep not silence, and give 
 Him no rest." He places them by His side at the altar, puts 
 into their hand a censer filled with incense like His own, and 
 thus seeks to multij^ly the voice and power of His own 
 intercession. 
 
 But why should it be necessary to enforce motives such as 
 these? The honour which He has put on us in permitting 
 us to pray for Him might well overAvhelm us with amaze- 
 ment. He needs not the supplications of any of His creatures, 
 for He is the object of the Father's unbounded complacency, 
 
358 PEAYER FOE CHRIST. 
 
 wlio hatli given all things into His hands. Or, if He chose 
 to employ them, He might have engaged the intercession of 
 His holy angels. They have never cast off His authority as 
 we have done ; they have ever counted it their highest honour 
 to engage in His service. How astonishing, then, that He 
 should ask for our supphcations in His behalf! That He 
 should permit us to breathe an entreaty for Him ! That He 
 should place us — ^whose every breath was pollution — ^whose 
 every act was an act of rebellion against Him — ^whom He had 
 to create anew before we would take any interest in His 
 service — that He should actually place us around the golden 
 altar as priests and intercessors for Him ! That He should, 
 as it were, change relations with us — j)l^cing us in the office 
 of intercessors for Him, though the acceptance of our prayers, 
 and the salvation of our souls, depend entirely on His inter- 
 cession for us ! Well may prayer be made continually for 
 Him ! And well may the Christian cherish the desire that 
 every moment of His life could be consecrated to an employ- 
 ment so ennobling and divine ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Brethren, in making an application of this subject, how 
 painful is it to think that fidelity requires us to ask, not 
 merely whether you have ever prayed for the cause of Christ, 
 but to go so far back as to ask, whether you have ever j)rayed 
 for yourselves? For, if you have not, it is too much to 
 suppose that you have prayed even for Christ. If you have 
 not prayed to him on your own account, it is not to be 
 imagined that you have prayed for him on any account. 
 Let me, then, repeat the inquiry — not as a matter of course, 
 but as a matter of infinite moment — whether you have ever 
 yet prayed for yourselves ? Have you acquired a habit of 
 resorting daily to the footstool of mercy, in the name of 
 Christ? If you have not, let me remind you that, so far 
 from promoting His cause, you are throwing yourselves as 
 
PEAYEE FOE CHEIST. 359 
 
 obstacles in the way of its progress. Let me remind you 
 that, if your conduct were universally imitated, this world 
 would cease to have any intercourse with heaven — the foot- 
 stool of mercy would be deserted— the angel having the 
 golden censer would forsake the altar, no more to offer 
 incense there — the destruction of the world would commence. 
 Let me remind you that the cause of Christ, of which you 
 are now so regardless, is destined to triumph; and the choice 
 is now given you, whether you will share the honour of pro- 
 moting it, or be dragged as a captive at its wheels. Believe 
 it, my fellow-sinner, that he is now awaiting your application 
 for mercy. He now sends to you this message — that He is 
 waiting for you ; that He looks to see you this day at His 
 footstool. Oh, haste, and take refuge at His feet! Pray 
 that He would triumph over your irreligion; beseech Him to 
 make you willing in the day of His power. 
 
 But if you do pray for the reign of Christ, cultivate the 
 habit. Pray for an increase of your ovm personal piety; and 
 remember that, in so doing, you are, in effect, praying for 
 Him— for you are asking Him to augment His glory by the 
 acceptance of your homage— to multiply His subjects by 
 adding you to their number — to advance His cause by taking 
 you into His service, and condescending to employ your 
 instrumentaKty. 
 
 Pray for the prosperity of the Christian Church. "But 
 has not a spirit of supplication, of late years, distinguished 
 the Churches of Christ?" Only very partially; whereas the 
 prayer wanted is universal. Only very feebly; whereas the 
 prayer wanted is the effectual, fervent prayer, which availeth 
 much. Only by fits; whereas the prayer needed is the con- 
 tinuous, unbroken, persevering cry of importunity. Only 
 the prayer of party — effects prove it; whereas the prayer 
 wanted is the prayer of all, with one accord. 
 
 Pray, then, for the prosperity of the Christian Church. 
 Do you ask, what should be the special object of supplica- 
 
SCO PEAYER FOE CHRIST. 
 
 tion? Oil, it wants more sj^irituality, or distinctness from 
 the world — it wants a higher appreciation of its office, as 
 the instrument of Christ for saving the world — it wants 
 more of the spirit of liberality, union, zeal. But there is 
 one want which comprehends the whole — the impartation of 
 the Holy Spirit. Let that be secured, and in obtaining that, 
 we shall obtain the supply of every other want — we should 
 find that we had come into possession of the same mind 
 which was also in Christ — a benevolence which would yearn 
 over the whole human race — a brotherly love which would 
 combine with the entire body of Christians for the conversion 
 of the world — a zeal which would be constantly devising 
 fresh methods of usefulness, practising self-denial, and laying 
 itself out in the service of Christ — and a perseverance which 
 would never rest till the whole family of man should be 
 seated together at the banquet of salvation. 
 
 But if all this is to be obtained by prayer, shall we not 
 seek for it — and seek for it at once? Why should this 
 Church — this congregation — delay? Why should we not 
 now — every soul — send up an earnest and united cry for 
 the Spirit of God? And, if we did so, who will dare to say 
 that the blessing would not forthwith descend? and who will 
 venture to calculate the extent and the consequence of that 
 blessing? Brethren, do we really believe in the efficacy of 
 prayer — do we? Then let us prove it — let us take an imagi- 
 nary case — ^let us take, for instance, that forlorn hope of the 
 missionary war, China, as the scene of a new Christian enter- 
 prize. Let every step taken be consecrated by 2:)rayer. Let 
 the heralds be sent to summon it in the name of Christ. 
 Let ]Moses retire to the hill to pray — and, if necessary, let 
 Joshua and Hur accompany and assist him ; in other words, 
 let chosen men be apjoointed to pray — let others follow them 
 in unbroken succession — and others meet to 2'»i'ay for the 
 chosen intercessors — and let them entreat God continually 
 for that specific object ; let this be done — and could you 
 
PEAYER FOR CHRIST. 361 
 
 doubt of success? "Would you hesitate, supposing you were 
 qualified, to be yourself one of the heralds? Then you are 
 not a believer. 
 
 Christian brethren ! prayer is not only desirable, obliga- 
 tory, necessary — it is, in a sense, becoming inevitable. We 
 read of the Church of old being shut up unto the faith which 
 should afterwards be revealed — the faith of Christ. The 
 Church at present is shut up unto prayer — prayer for the 
 Spirit. It must submit to disgrace in heathen lands, or call 
 down help from heaven. It is so completely ensnared by 
 success, that it must sound a retreat or betake itself to God 
 in unusual prayer. Happy necessity, which shall drive it to 
 this resource ! Blessed exigence, which shall bring the whole 
 Church on its knees before God! The time to favour her, 
 yea, the set time, will then have come. "God, even our own 
 God, will bless us.""* Gazing from His throne upon His 
 Church, suppKant at His feet, He will say, "Behold, she 
 prayeth! let the windows of heaven be oj^ened, and the 
 blessing be poured out.''' 
 
 By our sense of consistency, then — by our pity for nations 
 perishing in ignorance and guilt — by our gratitude to Christ 
 — by our own spmtual v/elfare — and l^y the dignity of our 
 office, let us seek the effusion of the Spirit on the Christian 
 Church. And, while before God in prayer, let us remember 
 that in interceding for the Church, we are interceding for 
 the world; for it is only through the instrumentality of His 
 people that He proposes to save the world. Christians, 
 realize in thought the responsibility of your office — you go 
 to God as the earthly representatives of mankind — as inter- 
 cessors for the world. You pass to the throne of grace 
 through multitudes, myriads of human beings. Do you not 
 hear them, as you go, imploring a place in your supplica- 
 tions? Do you not see all Africa assembled in your path — 
 urging you to go to God for them — to describe their wrongs 
 — to ask for them the blessino-s of the reio-n of Christ? And 
 
362 PEAYEK FOR CHRIST, 
 
 before yon have clone pleading for Africa, China comes, with 
 its nntolcl myriads, entreating you to intercede for them. 
 And while yet you are pleading for China, India comes, with 
 its tale of lamentation and woe, and entreats you to speak 
 for it — and can you refrain? And when you grow faint, 
 they all combine their entreaties that you cry to God for 
 them louder still — that you call in help — more intercessors, 
 and more still — till all the Church be prostrate in prayer. 
 And when you move to quit the throne of grace, they all 
 entreat you not to leave them unrepresented before God. 
 " Oh, if there be a God,'' they say, " and if prayer can reach 
 Him, do not leave us thus, or we perish. Our only hope is in 
 the God you worship — the Saviour you proclaim ; pray that 
 His saving health may be extended to us.'' Let Christians 
 realize their office thus — and remember that in asking for 
 the salvation of the world, they are seeking the consumma- 
 tion of the glory of Christ, and they would pray till the world 
 was given into their hands. 
 
 Meantime, the whole creation prays — the whole creation 
 groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. It con- 
 tains within itself principles and powers repressed by the 
 curse of sin, but panting and praying to regain their freedom 
 and to fulfil their destiny — and its prayer shall be heard. 
 But, oh ! there is an infinite power slumbering in the arm of 
 God, waiting to be awoke by the prayers of the Church for 
 the renovation of the world. And the time shall come 
 when the efficacy of prayer shall be tried on a scale before 
 unknowm — wdien the voice of the Church shall incessantly 
 cry, " Awake, awake, arm of the Lord." And the time 
 shaU come when that voice shall be heard, and those prayers 
 be answered. " Behold," saith He, "I make all things new!" 
 At this moment that new creation stands in His prescient 
 view. There are its fields of living green — its trees of life — 
 and all its crystal streams. There are the nations of them 
 that are saved, rejoicing before Him. His Churcli prayed 
 
PEAYER FOE CHRIST. 363-S^?fr^ 
 
 for Him continually — and now, " daily shall He be praised/' 
 His name shall endure for ever — His name shall be con- 
 tinued as long as the sun — and men shall be blessed in Him 
 — all nations shall call Him blessed. Blessed be the Lord 
 God, the God of Israel, who only doeth wondrous thmgs. 
 And blessed be His glorious name for ever, and let the 
 whole earth be filled with His glory. Amen, and Amen. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
THE LIFE AND PQSTHUiVlOUS WORKS 
 
 THE EEV. JOHN HAEPJS, D.D., 
 
 Late Principal of New College, London, and formerly Theological Tutor of 
 Cheslmnt College. 
 
 Edited by the REV. PHILIP SMITH, B.A., 
 
 Head Master of Mill Hill School, and formerly a Colleague of Dr Harris in 
 
 Cheshunt and New Colleges. 
 
 This Series of the Ecmains of tlieir lamented Author -will contain the 
 
 Sermons imir Cfjargcs 
 
 Delivered by him in various parts of the countiy, during the height of his 
 reputation as a Preacher ; 
 
 % ^xraim on |Iatunil anir |icbcalcir ^Iclxgioit, 
 
 Exhibiting, in one view, the latest results of his Theological Studies ; 
 
 And a Fragment, complete in itself, of the Work which was interrupted by 
 his Death, on 
 
 Cj^^ gibinx 60&mTnmtl rrf Uatbns; 
 
 Besides other JMinor Writings and Fragments. 
 
 The Works icill not extend heyond Fonr elegant andportahle Volumes, 
 in lloyal 12 mo. 
 
 THE MEMOIR WILL BE IN ONE VOLUME, UNIFORM WITH THE WORKS. 
 
VALUABLE WORKS 
 
 PTTBLISnKD BY 
 
 G-OULD AND LINCOLN, 
 
 59 WASHINGTON STKSET, BOSTON. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN'S DAILY TEEASURY. 
 
 A Religious Exercise for E^-ery Day in the Tear. By E. Temple. A new and im- 
 proved edition. r2nio, cloth, $1.00. 
 A work for every Christian. It is indeed a " Treasury " of good things. 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF CHRIST; 
 
 Or, Christianity Viewed in its Leading Aspects. By the Eev. A. L. R. Foote, 
 author of '^ Incidents in the Life of our Saviour," etc. 16mo, cloth, 50 cents. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN LIFE, 
 Social and Individual. By Peter Bayne, M. A. 12mo, clott, $1.25. 
 
 The demand for this extraordinary work, commencing before its publication, is still eager and con- 
 stant. There is but one voice respecting it ; men of all denominations agree in pronouncing it one of 
 tlie most admirable works of the age. 
 
 GOD REVEALED IN THE PROCESS OF CREATION, 
 
 And by the 3Ianifestation of Jesus Christ. Including an Examination of the Develop- 
 ment Theory contained in the " Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation." By 
 James B. Walker, author of "Philosophy of the Plan of Salvation." 12mo, 
 cloth, $1.00. ' 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF THE PLAN OF SALVATION. 
 
 By an Americaist Citizen. An Introductory Essay, by Calvin E. Stowe, D. D. 
 
 Kew improved edition, with a Supplementary Chapter. 12mo, cloth, 75 cts. 
 
 This book is generally admitted to be one of the best in the English language. The work has been 
 translated into several different languages in Europe. A capital book to circulate among young men. 
 
 A ^\T:IEATH around the CROSS; 
 
 Or, Scripture Truths Illustrated. By A. Morton Brown, D. D. Recommen- 
 datory Preface, by Joun Angell James. Beautiful Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 60 
 cents. 
 
 THE BETTER LAND ; 
 
 Or, The Believer's Journey and Future Home. By Rev. A. C. TnoMPSON. 12mo, 
 
 cloth, 85 cents. 
 
 A most charming and instructive book for all now journeying to the " Better Land," and 
 especially for those who have friends already entered upon its never-ending joys. 
 
 THE MISSION OF THE COMFORTER. 
 
 "With copious ISTotes. By Julius Charles Hare. With the Notes translated 
 for the American edition. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 DR. WAYLAND'S UNIVERSITY SERMON 
 
 Delivered in the Chapel of BrowTi University. 12mo, cloth, SBl.OO. 
 
 THE RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 And their Relations to Christianity. By Frederick Denison BIaurice, A. M., 
 Professor of Divinity, King's College, London. 16mo, cloth, 60 cts. 
 
 f5) 
 
VALUABLE WOSKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD So LINCOLN, BOSTON. 
 
 SACHED IHIETOmC; 
 
 Or, Composition and Deliver}- of Sermons. By Henry J. Eipley, Professor in 
 Newton Tlieological Int^titiitioii. lueliiding rrol'essor Ware's Hints on Extem- 
 poraneous Preacliiug. 12mo, 75 cts. 
 
 THE PREACHER AND THE KING; 
 
 Or, Bourdaloue in tlie Court of Louis XIV. An Account of that distinguished Era, 
 Translated from the French of L. E. Bungenku. With an Introduction by the 
 Itev. CiEORGE roTTS, D.D. New edition, with a line Lilceuess, and a bketcli of 
 the Autlior's Life. lUmo, cloth, S?1.25. 
 
 It combines substantial history -with the highest charm of romance. Its attractions are so various 
 that it can hardly fail to find readers of almost every description. — [Puritan Kecorder. 
 
 THE PRIEST AND THE HUGrENOT ; 
 
 Or, Persecution in the Age of Louis XY. Translated from the French of L.F. Bun- 
 GEXER. 2 vols., 12mo,"cloth, !ir2.25. 
 
 K3~ This is truly a masterly production, full of interest, and may be set down as one of the greatest 
 Protestant works of the age. 
 
 FOOTSTEPS OF OUR FOREFATHERS. 
 
 What they Suffered and what tliey Sought. Describing Localities and portraying 
 Personages and Events conspicuous in the Struggles for Ifeligious Liberty. By 
 James G. Miall. Thirty -six tine Illustrations. "l2mo, Sl.UO. 
 
 An exceedingly entertaining work. The reader soon becomes so deeply entertained that he finds 
 it difficult to lay aside the book till fiuislied. — [Ch. Parlor Mag. 
 A work absorbingly interesting, and very instructive. — [Western Lit. Magazine. 
 
 MEMORIALS OF E.1RLY CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 Presenting, in a grapliic, compact, and popular form, Jlcmorable Events of Early 
 Ecclesiastical Ilistorv, etc. By James G. Mi all. With numerous elegant Illus- 
 trations. 12mo, cloth, igil.OO. 
 
 133" This, like the "Footsteps of our Forefathers," will be found a work of uncommon interest. 
 
 ■WOKKS BY JOHN HARRIS, D. D. 
 
 THE PPtE-ADA:JIITE EARTH. Con- 
 tributions to Theological Science. 12mo, 
 cloth, Sl.OO. 
 
 THE GPEAT TEACHER ; or, Charac- 
 teristics of our Loid's Ministrv. SV^ith 
 an Introductory Essay. By 'H. Hum- 
 phrey, D. D. 12mo, "cloth, 85 cts. 
 
 MAX PRIMEVAL : or, the Constitution 
 and Primitive Condition of the Human THE GREAT C0M3IISSI0X ; or, the 
 
 Being. With a tine I'ortrait of the Au- 
 thor. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 PATRIARCHY ; or, THE FAMILY. Its 
 
 Constitution and Probation; being the 
 third volume of '' Contributions to The- 
 logical Science." $1.25. 
 
 Christian Church constituted and charg- 
 ed to convey the Gospel to the World. 
 Introductory Essay by W. R. Wil- 
 liams, D. D. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 ZEBULOX; Or, the Moral Claims of Sea- 
 men. 18mo, cloth, 25 cts. 
 
 PIIILn* DODDRIDGE. 
 
 His Life and Labors. By Jotin STorGHTON, D. D., with beautiful Illuminated 
 Title-i)age and Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 THE EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY, 
 
 As exhibited in the writings of its apologists, down to Augustine. By W. J. Bolton, 
 of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. 12mo, cloth, 80 cents. 
 
 (6) 
 
VALUABLE WORKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD & LINCOLN, BOSTON 
 
 WORKS BY DR. TWEEDIE. 
 GLAD TIDINGS ; or, The Gospel of A LAMP TO THE TATII ; or, the T^lble 
 
 Peace. A series of Daily Meditations 
 lor Cliristian Disciples. By Kev. ^V. K. 
 TWEEDIE, 1>. D. U'itli elegant Illus- 
 trated Title-page. Itjuiu, clotn, 03 cts. 
 
 HIE 5I0RN OF LIFE ; or, Examples 
 of Female Excellence. A Book lor 
 Young J.,adies. IGuio, cloth. In jness. 
 
 in the Heart, the Home, and the Market 
 Place. With an elegant Illustrated 
 Title-page. IGmo, clotli, G3 cts. 
 
 SEED TIME AND HARVEST: or, Sow 
 Well and Keap Well. A Book lor the 
 Young. Willi an elegant Illustrated 
 Title-page. IGmo, cloth, U3 cts. 
 
 CO* Tlie above works, by Dr. Tweedic, arc of uiiilbrMi size and stj'le. They are most cliarni- 
 iig, pious, and insti-uctive works, beautifully gotten up, and well adapted for "gift-books." 
 
 WORKS BY JOHW ANGELL JAMES. 
 
 THE CHURCH MEMBERS GUIDE ; 
 Edited by J. O. Choules, D I). Aew 
 edition. With an Introductory Essay by 
 Rev. HUBBARU WiNSLOVV. Cloth, 33c. 
 
 CHRISTIAN PROGRESS. A Sequel to 
 the Anxious Inquirer. ISmo, cloth, 31c. 
 
 iStS" one of the best and most useful works of 
 this popular author. 
 
 THE CHURCH IN EARNEST. Seventh thousand. 18mo, cloth, 40 cents 
 
 MOTHERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. 
 
 By JABE2 BuR^'S, D. D. 16mo, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 "We wish it were in every family, and read by every mother in the laud. — [Lutheran Observer. 
 
 MY MOTHER; 
 
 Or, Recollections of Maternal Influence. By a New England Clergyman. With 
 a beautiful Frontispiece. 12nio, cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 This is one of the most charming books tliat have issued from the press for a long period. " It is," 
 says a distinguished author, " one of those rare pictures painted from life with the exixuisite skill of 
 one of the ' Old Masters,' which so seldom present themselves to the amateur." 
 
 THE EXCELLENT WOMAN. 
 
 With an Introduction by Rev. W. B. Sprague, D.D. Containing twenty-four splen- 
 did Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, $^1.00 ; cloth, gilt, S;1.75 ; extra Turkey, !i?2.50. 
 
 ©3- This elegant volume is an appropriate and valuable "gift book" for the husband to present the 
 wife, or tiie child the mother. 
 
 MEMORIES OF A GRANDMOTHER. 
 
 By a Lady of Massachusetts. 16mo, cloth, 50 cents, 
 
 THE MARRIAGE RING; 
 
 Or, How to make Home Happy. By Johx Angell James. Beautiful illustrated 
 
 edition 16mo, cloth, gilt, 75 cents. 
 
 A beautiful volume, and a very suitable present to a newly-married couple.— [N. Y. Christian In- 
 telligencer. 
 
 WORKS BY AATILLIAM R. WILLIAMS, D.D. 
 
 LECTURES ON THE LORD'S PRAY'ER 
 
 Third edition. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 
 
 Their breadth of view, strength of logic, and 
 stirring eloquence place them among the very best 
 homilitical cffijrts of the age. Every page is full of 
 suggestions as well as eloquence.— Cli. Parlor ^fag. 
 
 MISCELLANIES. New improved edi- 
 tion. Price reduced. 12mo, if?!. 25. 
 
 (7) 
 
 RELIGIOUS PROGRESS ; Discourse? 
 on the Development of the Christian 
 Character. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 
 
 This work is from the pen of one of the bright- 
 est lights of the American pulpit. AVe scarcely 
 know of any Uving writer who has a finer com- 
 mand of powerful thought and glowing, impres- 
 sive language than he. — [Dk. Si-kague, Alb. Atl. 
 
VALUABLE WORKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD & LIKCOLN, BOSTON 
 
 THE CHUISE OF THE NORTH STAH ; 
 
 A Narrative of the Excursion of Mr. Vandcrbilf s Party, in her Voyage to England, 
 llussia, Denmark, France, Spain, Italy, Malta, Turkey, Madeira, etc. By Eev. 
 John Ovkutox Choules, 1). D. With elegant Illustrations, etc. 12mo, cloth, 
 gilt back and sides, $1.50. 
 
 VISITS TO EUROPEAN CELEBRITIES. 
 
 By the Key. William B. Sprague, D.D. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 A Berios of graphic and life-like Personal Sketches of many of the most distinguished men and 
 ■women of Europe, with whom the author became acquainted in tlie course of several European tours, 
 where he saw them in their own homes and under the most advantageous circumstances. " It was my 
 uniform custom, after every such interview, to take copious memoranda of the conversation, includ- 
 ing an account of the individual's appearance and manners ; in short, defining, as Avcll as I could, 
 the whole impression which his physical, intellectual, and moral man had made upon me." From 
 the memoranda thus made, the material for the present instructive and exceedingly interesting 
 volume is derived. Besides these "pen and ink " sketches, the woric contains the novel attraction 
 of a FAC SIMILE OF TUE siG>rATUEE of each of the iJersons introduced. 
 
 PILGRIMAGE TO EGYPT; EXPLORATIONS OF THE NILE. 
 
 With Observations, illustrative of the Manners, Customs, etc. By Hi)n. J. V. C. 
 Smith, M, D. With numerous elegant Engravings. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE CAMPAIGN. 
 
 A complete Narrative of the War in Southern Eussia. Written in a Tent in 
 the Crimea. By 3Iajor E. Bruck IIamley, author of '-Lady Lee's Widowhood." 
 With a new anil complete 31ap of the Seat of AVar. 12ino, paper covers, 37^ cts. 
 
 POETICAL WOKKS. 
 
 MILTON-S rOETICAL WORKS. With 1 POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER 
 
 Life and Elegant Illustrations. 16mo, SCOTT. With Life, and Illustrations on 
 cloth, 81.00; tine cloth, gilt, 81-25. | Steel. 16mo, cl., 81 ; fine cl., gilt> 81.25. 
 
 COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM COWPER. With a Life, and 
 Critical Notices of his Writings. With new and elegant Illustrations on Steel. 
 16mo, cloth, 81.00; fine cloth, gilt, .81-25. 
 
 G3~ The above Poetical Works, by standard authors, are all of imiform size and style, printed on 
 fine paper, from clear, distinct type, with new and elegant illustrations, richly bound in full gilt, and 
 plain ; thus rendering them, in connection with the exceedingly low piuce at which they are 
 offered, the cheapest and most desirable of any of the numerous editions of these author's works now 
 in the market. 
 
 LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE OF JOHN FOSTER. 
 
 Edited by J. E. Rylats^d, with Notices of Mr. Foster as a Preacher and a Com- 
 panion. By John Shkppard. Two volumes in one, 700 pages. 12mo, cloth, 81-25. 
 
 In simplicity of language, in majesty of conception, in the eloquence of that conciseness which con- 
 veys in a short sentence more meaning than the mind dares at once admit, — his writings are 
 unmatched. — [North British Review. 
 
 GUIDO AND JULIUS. 
 
 The Doctrine of Sin and the Propitiator; or, the True Consecration of the Doubter. 
 Exhibited in the Corrt'spondence of two Friends. By Frederick Augustus O. 
 TiiOLUCii, D. D. Translated by Jonathan Edwards Rylakd. With an Intro- 
 duction by John Pye Smith, D. D. IGmo, cloth, 60 cents. 
 
 NEW AND COMPLETE CONDENSED CONCORDANCE 
 
 To the Holy Scriptures. Bv Alexander Cruden. Revised and rc-edited by Rev. 
 David King, L.L. D. Octavo, cloth backs, 81-25; sheep, 81-50. 
 
 (81 
 
VALUABLE WOSKS PUBLISHED BY GOULD &o LINCOLN, BOSTON. 
 
 CYCLOPEDIA OF ANECDOTES OF LITERATURE AXD THE FIXE ARTS. 
 
 A choice selection of Anecdotes of the various forms of Literature, of the Arts, of 
 Architecture, Eugraviug8, Music, I'octrVj I'aiutiuj? and .Sculpture, and of the most 
 celebrated Literary Cliaracters and Artists of dilierent Countries and Ages, &c. 
 Uv Kazlitt j\-avi>-E, A. 31. With numerous Illustrations. 725 pages, octavo, 
 cloth, S^S.OO. 
 
 This 13 unquestionably the choicest collection of axecdotes ever published. It contains tiikke 
 
 TIIOUSAXD AXD FOUTY AXECDOTES, and lUOrc tlinn ONE HLXDKED AXD FIFT 1' IlLUSTUATIOX S. 
 
 It is admirably adapted to literary and scicntiQc men, to artists, mechanics, and others, as a I)ic- 
 TioxAKV roK EEFEitEXCE, ia rclatiou to fucts oa the uumbcrlcsa subjects and characters intro- 
 duced. 
 
 KITTO'S POPULAR CYCLOPIBIA OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE. 
 
 Condensed from the larger work, bv the author, Jon:N Kitto, D. D. Assisted by 
 James Taylor, D. D. "With over oOO Illustrations. Octavo, 812 pp., cloth, .^f3.00. 
 
 This work answers the ptirpose of a commentary, while at the same time it furnishes a complete 
 DiCTioxAKY OF THE BiBLE, embodying the products of the best and most recent rescarclies 
 in biblical literature, in.whichtlie scholars of Europe and America have been engaged. It is not 
 only intended for ministers and theological students, but is also particularly adapted to parents, 
 Sabbatli-school teachers, and the great body of the religious pubhc. 
 
 HISTORY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 With the Geography and Xatural History of the Country, the Customs and Institu- 
 tions of the Hebrews, etc. By John Kitto, D. D. With upwards of 200 Illus- 
 trations. 12mo, clofh, ^1.25. 
 
 Beyond all dispute this is the best historical compendium of the Holy Land, from the days of 
 Abraham to those of the late Pasha of Egypt, Jlehemet All. — [Edinburgh Review, 
 
 C©~ In the numerous notices and reviews, the work has been strongly recommended, as not only 
 admirably adapted to the family, but also as a text-book for Sabbath and week day schools. 
 
 CHAMBERS'S CYCLOPAEDIA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
 
 Two large imperial octavo volumes of 1400 pages; with upwards of 300 elegant Illus- 
 trations. By Robert Chambers. Embossed cloth, Sro.OO. 
 
 This work embraces about Oxe tiiousaxd autiioks, chronologically arranged and classed 
 as Poets, Historians, Dramatists, Philosophers, Aletaphysicians, Divines, etc., ■with choice selections 
 from their writings, connected by a Biographical, Historical, and Critical Narrative; thus presenting 
 a complete view of Englisli literature from the earliest to the present time. Let the reader open 
 where he will, he cannot fail to find matter for profit and delight. The selections are gems — 
 infinite riches in a little room ; in the language of aaother, " A whole Exglish Libkaky fused 
 
 DOWX IXTO OXE CHEAP BOOK !" 
 
 CHAilBEHS'S illSCELLANY OF TSEEUL Am ENTERTAI^^D^G KNOWLEDGE. ' 
 By William Chambers. With Illustrations. Ten vols., 16mo, cloth, 87.00. 
 
 CHAMBERS'S HOME BOOK AND POCKET MISCELLANY. 
 
 A choice Selection of Interesting and instructive Reading for the Old and the Young. 
 Six vols. 16mo, cloth, $3.00. 
 
 This work is fully equal, if not superior, to cither of the Cliambers's other works in interest, 
 •ontaining a vast fund of valuable information, furnishing ample variety for every class of readers. 
 
 CHAilBERS'S REPOSITORY OF IXSTRECTIYE AND AiTUSING PAPERS. 
 With Illustrations. IGmo, cloth, bound. 4 vols, la two, $1.75^ and 4 vols, in one, $1.50. 
 
IMPORTANT NEW WORKS. 
 
 THE TESTIMONY OF THE ROCKS : or, Geology in its Bearings on 
 the two Theologies, Natural and Revealed. By Hugh Miller. " Thou shalt be 
 in league with the stones of the field." — Job. With numerous elegant illustrations. 
 12mo, cloth, SI. 25. 
 The completion of this important work employed the last hours of the lamented author, and may 
 
 be considered his greatest and in fact his life work. 
 
 MACAULAY ON SCOTLAND. A Critique. By Hugh Miller, 
 Author of " Footprints of the Creator,'' &c. IGmo, flexible cloth, 25c. 
 
 Every one who has read Macaulay's last volumes will remember in what an unfavoral)Ic liglit lie 
 has presented the Scottish character. In this critique Hugh Miller enters the lists in defence of 
 his native country. He shows that the distinguished historian has sacrificed truth for the srd<o of 
 making a brilliant picture, and also gratifying his prejudices. The charm of Hugh Miller's style, 
 rivalling that of JNlacaulay himself, and his manifest superiority in knowledge of historic I'acts, will 
 secure for this essay a wide perusal. It certainly presents Macaulay iu a new light as a historian. 
 
 When we read JIacaulay's last volumes, we said that they wanted nothing but the fiction to make 
 an epic poem ; and now it seems to be proved that they are not wanting even in that. His abuse of 
 t)ic Scotch Presbyterians is shown up according to his deserts, in the little work bcfoi'e us. The 
 truth is, that, through his religious prejudices, Macaulay is incapable of understanding either the 
 Presbyterians or the Puritans, or any otlier Avho have a spiritual religion. — Pukitan Recokdeu. 
 
 This is a searching Critique upon the most distinguished living historian of Great Britain. The 
 name of Hugh Miller will create a demand for it among tliose wlw are acquainted with his writings. 
 
 — PUILA. CUKISTIAN ObSEKVEK. 
 
 The historian is handled with amasterly hand in its pages. — Dollar Newspapek. 
 It is very sad to know that such an intellect as beams through these brilliant pages has been 
 quenched — for this world — in the waters of death. This critique is sparkling and severe, but just. 
 
 — CONOEEGATIOJfALIST. 
 
 He meets the historian at the fountain head, tracks him through the old pamphlets and newspapers 
 on which he relied, and demonstrates that his own authorities are against him. In the course of the 
 discussion, some new facts in Macaulay's personal history are disclosed, tending to set his assault on 
 the Highlanders in a very unamiablc light. The weight of his character and the well known attrac- 
 tions of his style will secure for this tract a wide and attentive perusal. — Boston Tkansckipx. 
 
 ESSAYS IN BIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM. By Peter 3ayne, 
 M. A., Author of " The Christian Life, Social and Individual." Arranged in 
 TWO Skries, or Parts. 12mo, cloth, each, f 1.00. 
 
 This work is prepared by the author exclusively for his American publishers. It includes eigh- 
 teen articles, viz.: 
 PiKST Series :— Thomas Do Quincy. - Tennyson and his Teachers. — Mrs. Barrett Browning. 
 
 — Recent Aspects of British Art. — John Buskin. — Hugh Miller. — The Modern Novel ; Dickens, &c. 
 
 — EUis, Acton, and Currcr Bell. — Charles Kingsley. 
 
 Second Series : - S. T. Coleridge. — T. B. Macaulay. — Alison. — "Wellington. — Napoleon. — 
 Plato. - Characteristics of Christian Civilization. — Education in the Nineteenth Century. — The 
 Pulpit and the Press. 
 
 LIPE AND CHARACTER OF JAMES MONTGOMERY. Abridged 
 from the recent London, seven volume edition. By Mrs. II. C. Knight, Author 
 of '• Lady Huntington and her Friends," &c. With a fine likeness and an elegant 
 illustrated title page on steel. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 This is an original biography prepared from the abundant, but ill-digested materials con- 
 tained in the seven octavo volumes of the London edition. The great bulk of that work, together 
 with the heavy style of its literary execution, must necessarily prevent its republication in this 
 country. At the same time, the Christian public in America will expect some memoir of a poet 
 whose hymns and sacred melodies have been the delight of every household. This work, it Is confi- 
 dently hoped, will fully satisfy tlie public desire. It is prepared by one who has already won distin- 
 guished laurels in this department of literature. (x) 
 
IMPORTANT WORKS. 
 
 ANALYTICAL COXCORDANCE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES ; 
 or, The Bible presented under Distinct and Classified Heads or Topics. By John 
 Eadie, D.D., LL. D., Author of "Biblical CyclopcTdia," "Dictionary of the 
 Bible," &c., &c. One volume, royal octavo, 83(3 pp. Cloth, ^3.00; sheep, $?3.50. 
 Just published. 
 
 The publishers would call the special attention of clergymen and others to some of the peculiar 
 features of this great work. 
 
 1. It is a concordance of snhjccis, not of u-ords. In this it differs from tlie common concordance, 
 vluch, of course, it docs not supersede. Both arc necessary to the Biblical student. 
 
 2. It embraces all the topics, both secvtlar and religious, which are naturally suggested by the entire 
 contents of the Bible. In this it differs from Scripture Manuals and Topical Text-books, which arc 
 confined to religious or doctrinal topics. 
 
 3. It contains tJie whole of the Bihle without ahridgmcnt, differing in no respect from the Bible in 
 common use, except in the classification of its contents. 
 
 4. It contains a synopsis, separate from the concordance, presenting within the compass of a few 
 pages a bird's-eye view of the whole contents. 
 
 5. It coEtains a table of contents, embracing nearly two thousand heads, arranged in alphabetical 
 order. 
 
 6. It is m'jch superior to the only other work in the language prepared on the same general plan, 
 and is offered to the public at much less cost. 
 
 The purchaser gets not only a Concordance, but also a BPole, in this volume. The superior con- 
 venience arising out of this fact, — saving, as it does, the necessity of having two book^ at hand and 
 of making two references, instead of one, — will be readily apparent. 
 
 The general subjects (under each of vhich there are a vast number of sub-divisions) are arranged 
 as follows, viz. : 
 
 Agriculture, Genealogj', Ministers of Keligion, Sacrifice, 
 
 Animals, God, Miracles, Scriptures, 
 
 Architecture, Heaven, Occupations, Speech, 
 
 Army, Arms, Idolatry, Idols, Ordinances, Spirits, 
 
 Body, Jesus Christ, Parables and Emblems, Tabernacle and Temple, 
 
 Canaan, Jews, Persecution, Vineyard and Orchard, 
 
 Covenant, Laws, Praise and Prayer, Yisions and Dreams, 
 
 Diet and Dress, Jlagistrates, Prophecy, War, 
 
 Disease and Death, Man, Providence, Water. 
 
 Earth, Marriage, Redemption, 
 
 Family, Metals and Jlinerals, Sabbaths and Holy Days, 
 
 That such a work as this is of exceeding great convenience is matter of obvious remark. But it 
 is much more than that ; it is also an instructive work. It is adapted not only to assist the student 
 in prosecuting the investigation of preconceived ideas, but also to impart ideas which the most care- 
 ful reading of the Bible in its ordinary arrangement might not suggest. Let him take up any one of 
 the subjects — " Agriculture," for example — and see if such be not the case. This feature places 
 the work in a higher grade than that of tli.e common Concordance. It shows it to be, so to speak, a 
 work of more mind. 
 
 No Biblical student would willingly dispense with this Concordance when once possessed. It is 
 adapted to the necessities of all classes, — clergymen and theological students; Sabbath-school 
 superintendents and teachers; authors engaged in the composition of religioiis and even secular 
 works; and, in fine, common readers of the Bible, intent only on their own improvement. 
 
 A COMMENTARY ON THE ORIGINAL TEXT OF THE ACTS 
 OF THE ABOSTLES. By Horatio B. Hackett. D. D., Professor of Biblical Liter- 
 ature and Interpretation, in the Newton Theological Institution. K7="A new, 
 revised, and enlarged edition. Li Press. 
 
 t(M~ This most important and very popular work, has been throughly revised (some parts being 
 entirely rewritten), and considerably enlarged by the introduction of important new matter, the 
 result of the Author's continued, laborious investigations since the publication of tlie first edition, 
 aided by the more recent published criticisms on this portion of the Divine Word, by other distin- 
 guislied Biblical Scholars, in this country and in Europe. (y) 
 
MODERN ATHEISM. 
 
 MODEEN ATHEIS:M, xinder its Forms of Pantheism, ISIaterialism, Secu- 
 larism, Development, and Natural Laws. By James Buchanan, D.D , LL.D. 
 12mo, cloth, S1.25. 
 
 The Author of this work is the successor of Dr. Chalmers in the Chair of Divinity in the New- 
 College, Edinburgh, and the intellectual leader of the Scottish Fi-ee Church. 
 
 Prom IIuou Miller, Author of " Old Red Sandstone," &c., &c. — The work before us Is 
 one of at once the most readable and solid which we have ever perused. 
 
 From the " News of the Churches." — It is a work of which nothing less can be said, than 
 that, both in spirit and substance, style and argument, it fixes irreversibly the name of the author 
 as a leading classic in the Christian literature of Britain. 
 
 From IIoward Malcom, D. D., President of Lewisburg University. — No work has 
 come into my hands, for a long time, so helpful to me as a teacher of metaphysics and morals. 
 I know of nothing which will answer for a substitute. The public specially needs such a book at 
 this time, when the covert atheism of Fichte, "Wolfe, Ilegel, Kant, Schelling, D'llolbach, Comte, 
 Crousse, Atkinson, Martineau, Leroux, Mackay, Ilolyoako, and others, is being spread abroad with 
 all earnestness, supported, at least in some places, both by church influence and university honors. 
 I cannot but hope that a work so timely, scholarly, and complete, will do much good. 
 
 It is one of the most solid and remarkable books in Its department of literature; one of the most 
 scholarly and profound productions of modern Christian literature. — Worcester Transcript. 
 
 Dr. Buchanan has earned a high and well-deserved reputation as a classical writer and close logi- 
 cal reasoner. lie deals heav}% deadly blows on atheism in all its various forms ; and wherever the 
 work is read it cannot fail to do good. — Christian Secretary. 
 
 It is a work which places its author at once in the highest rank of modern religious authors. His 
 analyses of the doctrines held by the various schools of modern atheism are admirable, and his 
 criticism original and profound ; while his arguments in defence of the Christian fiiith are powerful 
 and convincing. It is an attractive as well as a solid book ; and he who peruses a few of its pages is, 
 as it were, irresistibly drawn on to a thorough reading of the book.— Boston Portfolio. 
 
 The style is very felicitous, and the reasoning clear and cogent. The opposing theories are fairly 
 stated and combated with remarkable ease and skill. Even when the argument falls within the 
 range of science, it is so happily stated that no intelligent reader can fail to understand ii. Such a 
 profound, dispassionate work is particularly called for at the present time.— Boston Journal. 
 
 It is justly described as "a great argument," " magnificent in its strength, order, and beauty," in 
 defence of truth, and against the A'ariant theories of atheism. It reviews the doctrines of the dif- 
 ferent schools of modern Atheism, gives a fair statement of their theories, answers and refutes them, 
 never evading, but meeting and crushing their arguments. — Puila. Christian Observer. 
 
 Dr. Buchanan is candid and impartial, too, as so strong a man can aflfbrd to be, evades no argument, 
 undertakes no opposing view, but meets his antagonists with the quiet and unswerving confidence 
 of a locomotive on iron tracks, pretty sure to crush them. — Christian Eegister. 
 
 We hail this production of a master mind as a lucid, vigorous, discriminating, and satisfactory 
 refutation of the various false philosophies which have appeared in modern times to allure ingenu- 
 ous youth to their destruction. Dr. Buchanan has studied them thoroughly, weighed them dispas- 
 sionately, and exposed their falsity and emptiness. Ills refutation is a clear stream of light from 
 beginning toend. — Phila. Presbyterian. 
 
 We recommend " Modern Atheism " as a book for the times, and as having special claims on 
 theological students. — Universalist Quarterly. 
 
 It is remarkable for the clearness with which it apprehends and the fairness with which it states, 
 not less than for the ability with which it replies to, the schemes of unbelief in its various modern 
 forms. It will be found easy to read— though not light reading — and very quickening to thouglit, 
 while it clears away, one by one, the mists which the Devil has conjured around the great doctrines 
 of our Faith, by the help of some of his ingenious modern coadjutors, and leaves the truth of God 
 standing in its serene and pristine majesty, as if the breath of hatred never had been breatlied forth 
 against it. — Congregationalist. 
 
 Dr. Buchanan has here gone into the enemy's camp, and defeated him on his own ground. 
 The work is a masterly defence of faith against dogmatic unbelief on the one hand, and that uni- 
 versal skepticism on the other, which neither affirms nor denies, on the ground of an assumed 
 deficiency of evidence as to the reality of God and religion. — N. Y. Christian Chronicle. 
 
 It is a clearly and vigorously written book. It is particularly valuable for its clear statement and 
 masterly refutation of the Pantheism of Spinoza and his School. — Christian IIerald. (v)