the Saviour's brow, the Father stamps His fiat 'on the Son's divinity-for, lo! a voice from Heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Yes, truly the worship of the tabernacle of old was gorgeous -the vestments of the priests were costly, the holiest of all was richly furnished, the golden altars were magnificent, and the Shekinah's lustre brightly beamed-truly, the harp of David did discourse most eloquent music, and his numbers rolled in melting and inspiring strains-truly, the lyre-strings of Isaiah thrilled with holy poesy, and the prophetic song rang jubilant and plaintive in its varying cadence-but stand upon the gentle slope of yonder hill, and listen to the man Christ Jesus preaching to the eager crowd, and say, with all the holy minstrelsy of old still echoing in your mind-say, with the music of the Psalmist's anthems, and the vibrations of the prophet's proclamation still ringing in your ears say if ever man spake like this man. But, look once more into the ancient tabernacle, and ask the meaning of those bloody rites. Look at the priest staining his sacerdotal vestments with the blood of bulls and goats, and brazen, and bright golden vessels filled to the brim with blood. To what do all these crimson symbols point? They are types, but types of what? Is there anything in Bethlehem's picture, towards which they turn? There is no blood upon the pavement there. Is there anything in the Temple, or in any of the miracles which Jesus did, at which they glance? There is no blood involved in them. They stretch beyond all this, on to the closing scene they point into a garden, near Jerusalem, where the olive groves surround a kneeling figure, from whose dejected brow great drops of bloody sweat fall down upon the grass; they point still further, to a marble hall, where an unoffending victim meekly gives His back to the smiters, and where innocence is foully lashed by the knotted scourge of pitiless and cruel Jews; they point still further, to a cross-crowned mountain, where a thorn-crowned victim bleeds-to a tragedy so dire that the earth reels to look upon it-so awful that the graves unseal their lips, the sun turns red, and hides its blushes in a sackcloth shroud, the Temple vail is rent, the heavenly choirs are mute, and even Hell itself is stricken dumb with stupor. They point scene-t to Calvary, with all its tale of mercy, and its history of lovethey point to man's redemption, finished there by our Immanuel, and, as they point they seem to cry-behold the fountain open for thy sins, behold the great atonement for thy guilt, behold that gory Golgotha, which echoes with the hellish music of that damned lash-behold that pain-drenched heather of Gethsemane, which saw the agony of the mortal conflict-behold that wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, all reeking with the priceless streams of Christ's expiring love-behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world! Yes, my fellow-sinner, this is the way in which the stain of guilt is cleansed, this is the wondrous method of a heavenly Father's love, this is the triumph of the matchless ingenuity of grace, this is the manner in which God, who, at sundry times and in divers manners, spake in times past unto our fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by His Son. To us; to you and me; to all of us. To us; to the members of this vast assembly; to those who surround His table and celebrate His dying love, and feast upon the simple elements which can call Him back to us, and remind us of the price at which he bought us. To you, my fellow-sinner, still driving nails into his hands, and plunging back the spear into His side. To you, ye careless and indifferent, still trifling with His mercy, and forgetting all His love. To thee, thou hardened scoffer at His grace, whose heedless feet are paddling in the blood of the covenant, and counting it an unholy thing. To thee, thou hoarse blasphemer of His name, whose gall and vinegar again offend His lips. To thee, thou youthful prodigal, dancing along the road to death with impious tread and thoughtless gaiety. To thee, thou stalwart worldling, whose prime and pride of life are immolated at the shrine of lust and mammon. To thee, thou veteran traitor, whose white hoar frost and locks of silvery snow are melting gently under the fervent heat of hell's eternal flame. To you, and all, God speaks in love and mercy by His Son. O, He has spoken often in His Word! He has spoken by the fiery and cloudy pillar. He has spoken by the lips of seers and holy men of old. He has spoken through the hymns of the kingly poet, David. He has spoken by the mouth of prophets and of priests. He has spoken for Himself, and sworn that as He lives He delights not in the death of a sinner, but rather he would turn from his wickedness and live. He has promised that your sins though as scarlet shall be as wool, and though red like crimson shall be as white as snow. And He has done still more. He has ratified His oath by sending His only-begotten Son to die, the just for the unjust, to bring you unto Himself. And now, in these last days, He speaks unto you by His Son. By His only-begotten Son. O! if you will not hear Moses and the prophets-if you are deaf to the eloquence of types and shadows, and still indifferent to pleas and promises-listen, I entreat you, to the overtures of Christ Himself. If you cannot hearken to the seer, O, look upon the Saviour, and answer with your heart's surrender His appealing cry, "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” O lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset you, and come to Christ, and be set free from every thrall: give Him your heart, and He shall baptize it in the fountain of His blood, He shall give it back to you lightened of every burden, freed from every bond, and washed from every stain; thus shalt thou be delivered from the captivity which Jesus has led captive; thus shall you triumph in the liberty wherewith Christ can make you free. "Hail! Thou once despised Jesus! Hail! Thou Galilean King; Thou didst free salvation bring; There for sinners Thou art pleading, There Thou dost our place prepare, Ever for us interceding, Till in glory we appear!" THE DEATH STRUGGLE! WHERE is an inherent principle in human nature to defend whatever it holds dear, and it is natural to oppose all attempts to invade the sanctity of our possessions, or violently to trespass within the circle of our affections. The resistance offered will bear a proportion to the value set upon the object of attack. This law is traceable in all the stages of our existence, and in the smallest as well as the greatest things. It is not even confined to the human family, but pervades the brute creation. Let the nest of the sparrow be invaded by the kite, and with its puny strength it will defend its helpless young from its strong enemy until it can no longer strive, and only gives up when death closes the contest. So, too, with the human race. The child will oppose, with all its infant powers and passions, the injury or abstraction of the playthings it delights in. The man defends with all the might of brute force, influence, or legal warranty, the property his diligence has gained him. The mother, with the desperation of a mother's love, will die in defence of her children. The soldier, with the fortitude of a patriot, will brave the cannon or the sabre for his country's liberty and safety, and the haughty cavalier will risk his life. in vindication of what he calls his honour. In the development of this law, especially in its more modified forms, the perversity of our nature most strikingly appears. For instance, to look no further than the circle of the Christian Church, how often are men found there who will be constantly fighting and struggling about some little foibles of their own, under the pretence of defending what they call the purity of the church-levying visionary armies against themsolves building ideal barriers. across their path, or across that of the community to which they belong-for the pure purpose of routing the one or subverting - the other? and yet while thus valiantly engaged in battling with the foes of their own creation, even to the making of great personal sacrifices of time and peace of mind, they seldom try to lift up a standard against the enemy who is all this time intrenched in their own hearts, and is using, as it were, the fragments of the mimic conflict to strengthen his position and consolidate his power there. It requires, however, that in prosecuting our resistance to opposing influences we have an accurate appreciation and an enlightened dread of their power and malignity. Many portions of Scripture imply that there is to be a conflict carried on by man against sin. But there has been, ever since the fall, an element in our nature rather sympathetic with than antagonistic to the power of sin; and it is scarcely to be supposed that men should be prepared to struggle against that towards which they not only have no antipathy or aversion, but with which, on the contrary, they sympathise and acquiesce. Man is, however, essentially a religious creature; he feels, as it were intuitively, that he must have his God. And he is, moreover, anxious, of course from pure self-interest, to worship a true God; and he feels that none can be a true God who is not opposed to sin. Common intelligence, apart altogether from revelation, and to a great extent apart, too, from civilisation, common intelligence teaches him that that only can be a true God who punishes sin and rewards virtue; it teaches him that the first principle, so to speak, in the nature of a God, must be an aversion to sin, and a disposition to punish it. Difference of idea as to what is sin in the broad sense of the term can scarcely exist in the minds of men, especially civilised and similarly enlightened one with another, and therefore in a land enlightened by the same revelation, by one Gospel, it is needless to point out minutely what is sin. It is only necessary to attempt a definition of sin which we believe all men will be disposed to accept. Sin, then, is that principle in the hearts and minds of men, which has a tendency to draw away their thoughts and desires from the closer study of the character of the God in whose existence they believe, and whom they must know intimately, in order to perform His will. Now, the first impulse |