through this world, by which our principles and faith will be sorely tried.

us.

The fire of affliction in all its various forms will kindle upon Christ himself speaks of His own mission being to send fire upon the earth. And His great herald, while standing in his garb of sackcloth, preparing in the wilderness a highway for the Lord, as he baptized the multitudes who flocked about him to hear of the Saviour whom he preached, in the rolling waters of the river, he told them of One to come who should baptize them with the Holy Ghost and with fire. It is truc he came as a Saviour, on an errand of pure love and perfect mercy -it is true he came with the reprieve which cancelled the deathwarrant under which each child of Adam lived-it is true he came with the key which unlocked the door of the dark prison-house in which mankind were all immured-it is true he came with the passport which was to appease the angel who guarded the way to the tree of life, and make him sheath his flaming sword, and change his threatening thrust into an inviting beck—it is true he brought the incense which could perfume every prayer, and send it fragrant and grateful up before the throne of God— it is true he brought the talisman which could calm the storm in every troubled heart-it is true he brought the panacea which could quell the fever or allay the leprosy of every sickening soul-it is true that every tossing wave, whether upon the restless sea, or in the still more restless caverns of human passion, sink to obedience at his word; that devils ceased to rage before his presence, and men who took delight in blood kept silence where he came that clamour dropped her tone, and muttered mutely when he drew nearthat turbulence skulked off at the far-off echo of his footstep-that discord fled his presence, and jealousy and war retreated at the first rustle of his robe or whisper of his voice. It is true that love was in his train, and peace strewed flowers in his path-that sorrow kindled into joy-that tears dried up before his smile, and heavy hearts grew light beneath the burden of his name. Yet, still he brought to earth a fire which kindled through the world, which burned in kingly hearts, and glimmered in the breasts of scribes and learned men, when first the star was seen twinkling in the east, and letting fall its rays upon the village stable, where a virgin-mother nursed an infant with glory shining round its head. That fire burned in many bosoms who stood beside the margin of the stream when John baptized him, and when the ethereal veil was withdrawn to make way for the descending dove and the heavenly voice,

"this is my beloved son." It blazed again amidst the crowd who stood around the crest of Olivet, " astonished at his doctrine," when "he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes." It rankled in the hearts of jealous Pharisees, when he healed the sick upon the Sabbath day, and in the hearts of mocking Sadducees when he called them hypocrites and fools. It flushed the minds of the Roman centuries when they dragged him before Pilate's bar. It leaped within the heart of Judas when he dipped his hand into the dish, and said, "Hail, master! and kissed him." It maddened the very souls of the Jewish rabble when they hoarsely yelled, "away with him! crucify him!" It fevered the hearts of those who nailed him to the cross, who pierced his side, and spit upon him, whilst he woke the echoes of the ninth hour by the cry of, "Eloi, Eloi, lama Sabacthani.” This fire he lighted up by his first visit to our earth. But there is another sense in which he has lighted a fire amongst men. He has kindled the fire of his Gospel-a fire not intended to scorch and to consume, but to chase from around that on which it acts, all that defiles and injures. If we bring our hearts to this fire it will warm them with a genial and suffusing glow, and cause them to leap responsive to every high and pure appeal. If we bring our consciences to it, it will purge them from dead works, and quicken them to detect and choose the precious from the vile. And everything that he offers to us for our acceptance has been purified in this same fire. "I counsel you to buy of me gold tried in the fire." It is no bauble diadem, no tinsel crown he offers us, but has been burnished and made bright in the fire of the Great Refiner, and we may buy it "without money and without price."

But there is another fire through which we needs must passwhich He did not kindle-but still into which He often puts His people. This is the fire of affliction. His care over those who are passing through this fire has led the prophet to describe Him as sitting like "a refiner and purifier of silver." This is a beautiful figure. The mechanical process of refining silver is one requiring great care and nicety on the part of the operator, who sits by the furnace, intently eyeing the substance on which he is working, because, if the fire be suffered to act upon it at all too long, the effect is marred if not frustrated. He, therefore, sits ready to draw out the silver at the precise moment required, in order to subject it to the subsequent processes. In like manner does Christ sit beside the furnace of affliction, watching, with curious eye, its effect upon those who

He

are passing through it. He sits there eager to withdraw them from the trying ordeal when the proper moment comes. does not sit to gloat over their pain, but to soothe it by his presence, and to allay it when its lessons have been duly learned. He sits there to see that his servants are not over-tried, and to give them comfort by his nearness to them and his sympathy with them. Let this thought, then, come to you in all its power in the day of trial, that, however fierce the flames which scorch you, Christ sits beside the fire with his eyes upon you; and if HE is there, you may be sure that it is for some good end that you are tried, and that the affliction is destined, in his own good time, to work out for you "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." And is there not consolation enough in this thought! Does it not come like a cooling breeze to allay the fever of the fiercest anguish! Christ is near! Come, then, ye hottest flames of trouble and pain, and wrap me in your fierce embrace! While Christ sits by the fire, I will triumph in the midst of tribulation! Is it not worth while to languish on the bed of sickness and disease to feel that Christ is by our side! Is it not worth while to loose the pleasant lights of earth, to catch more clearly the diviner beams that mantle round Immanuel's face! Teach me, O Christ, that THOU art near me in every hour of distress, and then though the furnace glow with a seven-fold fury, I will caress its hottest and most lambent flame, if only I may feel the omnipotent support of thine everlasting arms! O, if we could but realize how much he loves us, if we could but think how much he cares for us, and be led to cast all our cares upon him! How faithful should we find him! How deep would be the wells from which we should draw living water! How tranquilly should we resign ourselves and all we loved to him; and as our hearts reminded us that he doeth all things well, our lips would give forth the feeling, "It is the Lord, let him do as seemeth him good!"

The refiner of silver has a very simple mode whereby to test the completeness of the process he performs. When he withdraws the silver from the fire, he judges of the perfection of the operation by the distinctness with which he can discern his own image reflected in the metal. If he sees it plainly mirrored there, he knows the process to be complete. It needs no words to apply the metaphor to those who have passed the furnace of affliction. You have doubtless done this for yourselves. When Christ plucks his people from the fire, he looks for his own image in every face; and in proportion as that

image may be traced, so may it be more or less emphatically said of that man, "it was good for him to be afflicted."

"He that from dross would win the precious ore,

Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye,
The subtle, searching process to explore,
Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by
When, in the molten silver's virgin mass,
He meets his pictured face as in a glass.
"Thus in God's furnace are His people tried;

Thrice blessed they who to the end endure !
But who the fiery trial may abide,

Who from the crucible come forth so pure

That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole,
May see His image perfect in the soul.

"Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone,

As in that mirror the refiner's face,

But stamped with Heaven's broad signet there be shown
Immanuel's features, full of truth and grace;

And round that seal of love this motto be,

'Not for a moment-but eternity.""

Thus, my friends, let us seek to have our trials sanctified by being brought by them near to Christ, and feeling that they have brought Christ near to us. For we make affliction heavier by rebelling against it; we only cause the fire to burn the fiercer by writhing and struggling in it, instead of meekly bearing its heat. Even Christians are too apt to forget that it is a refining fire. Let the thought that Christ has passed it without complaint or murmuring strengthen you in the hour of trial. If we would but seek help to pass it as he passed it, we should show more of his image when we emerged from it. What are our heaviest troubles to the anguish he endured on our account? O, let us, when we feel ready to complain beneath our Father's hand, think of what has been endured for us— -think of the scene in the garden, and the groans that broke the stillness of Gethsemane, when its very soil was dyed with the sweat of Divine compassion-think of the damned scourge that lashed the Man of Sorrows as he bore his cross to Calvary, with the wreath of thorns upon his brow, and try to sound the awful depths of that mysterious anguish-that dense midnight of the soul that bore him down, when, wounded to the heart with our transgressions, and bruised to the inmost quick with our iniquities, he, who had done no evil, and in whom was no guile, looked vainly up for succour to his Father's frowning face, and cried, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me!" Think of this, Christian! aye, let all think of it when affliction comes to you, and contrast

your trials with all this; and look from amongst the louring clouds to Jesus, trusting in his boundless love, for he never oses sight of you, and none shall pluck you from his hand. And now one word of earnest warning before we part this afternoon. My fellow-sinner, I want to say a word to you, and when I say it to you, I say it also to myself. Remember, in the name of all that is sacred, true, and holy, remember that this life is short, and that eternity shall have no end. And as you think of this, make up your mind as in the sight of a heartsearching God, whether you will prefer a few sinful pleasures now, and endless misery hereafter, or whether you will seek God's help to give up these present follies for eternal life, and joy in heaven. "Ye must be born again." I put it to you plainly, and the choice is in your own hands.

The time is coming on, with swift and sweeping wing, when all this teeming earth, with all its sights of loveliness and joy, its green fields and gardens, its blue hills and sunny landscapes, its fruitful vallies and its rich and pregnant plains, shall be wreathed in the circling caresses of the last great fires. The heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat. The astonished world shall be the burnt, offering to the Lord of Glory. "Lebanon is not sufficient to burn. nor the beasts thereof for a burnt-offering," the whole cir cumference of the earth must bring forth her treasures, and pour them into the crucible of Omnipotence.

You and I shall not live to see that day, but we shall be startled from our graves to look upon the sight. But if we would look upon it unmoved, out of the safe pavilion of a Saviour's hiding-place, we must prepare to meet him now.

While you and I are living lives of unrepented sin, we are like men standing on the turgid crater of a burning mountain. The verdure round its fevered, cracking lips, is drying up, and flowers are withering away. We may be secure for a short time longer, and the buried fires may slumber yet a little space. But O, believe me, there is beneath your feet, my fellow-sinner, a restless sea of molten lava, a burning gulph of flame. In your ears, and in God's name, I sound the alarm of Fire! The only insurance office to which you can repair is the Cross of Christ; but there, thank God, you may be safe. Oh, don't turn away and call me a ranter and an alarmist, when I cry Fire! Fire! Fire! in your hearing now. There is ground for the alarm. O, take warning while you may!

It is said of volcanos that before an eruption takes place. the wells and springs of water all dry up, and as the villagers