of all unhappiness.

There is no need of

giving him comfort, let his earthly troubles be as great as they will; for he has that in him which will make him more than patient; which puts him already half in heaven. His love shows that his sins are forgiven, for no one can love God thoroughly who feels himself guilty in his sight, and fears lest he should be unpardoned; and with the sense of sin and condemnation thus destroyed, death has lost its sting, and he lives and will live for evermore, because he belongs to God.

On the other hand, St. Paul says also, in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, " If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema." These words are not to be strained harshly, as if all those were shut out from God's covenant whose fear surpassed their love. But where there is no love at all, there commonly is no fear either, and such are the persons against whom God's judgment. is threatened. There is no fear in their common way of living, while they are well and comfortable; but when any thing makes them think of death, then they are afraid, and their fear then is of no use to them. But for those who fear God constantly when they are in health, it is certain that they must love him

also; and it is rather their misfortune than their fault that they do not feel more happy in their love. However, the more common case, I am afraid, is theirs who neither fear much nor love much; to whom the words of the text express a feeling altogether strange,--they know not what it is to be constrained by the love of Christ.

We know and understand a great many motives, some leading to good and others to evil, and some leading partly to one and partly to the other. We know what it is to please ourselves, we know also (none is so vile as not to know it) what it is to please others; we know the pleasure of being praised, of being honoured, of being esteemed, of being loved; we know what it is to be constrained by the love of amusement, and many of us also know what it is to be constrained by the love of knowledge; or, at least, of the distinction which knowledge brings with it. These feelings act upon our minds, and influence our characters, but the constraining power of the love of Christ is a motive which we read of in the New Testament, we read of it also in the lives of martyrs or of missionaries; but what it is from our own experience there are too many of us who know nothing at all, who can

perhaps hardly conceive themselves so changed as that they should know it.

Yet the facts which should naturally excite this love are all known to them. They know what this week celebrates; there is no part of the story of our Lord's sufferings with which their ears are not familiar. They have heard. and read often even of his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, even of his exclaiming on the cross, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Nor have any more particulars been known to good men of old than are now known to us. Go back as far as we will, approach as closely to the time of our Lord's appearing on earth as our existing records will allow, still we can trace no fuller knowledge of the facts of our Lord's sufferings and death than we can all gain-than we have actually gained from the four Gospels now in our possession. That story which we know so well, but feel so little, is precisely the same which constrained so many of God's servants in different ages, which constrains so many at this moment, to count all things but loss for Christ's sake, to govern their whole lives and thoughts by the principle of love and gratitude to their Saviour. The difference is assuredly not in our knowledge but in ourselves-that

which has been the very bread of life to others is to us tasteless, weak, and ineffectual.

Yet, although it is true that we have the facts of our Lord's sufferings before us, as well as those of his life; and though we may, in one sense, be said to have the knowledge of them, yet we still labour under a strange ignorance respecting them; we have not, it is to be feared, brought them home to ourselves, and fully digested them. We still are apt to say in our hearts, "Who shall ascend into heaven, or who shall descend into the grave?" or, in other words, we connect the thought of our Lord only with heaven, which is far above out of our sight; or with death, which we strive to keep out of our minds so long as we can. We do not enough consider that the word is nigh us, in our mouths, and in our hearts; that it is now, whilst we are in this world, whilst we are talking and thinking and acting in our various ways, that Christ offers himself to us as our Saviour. We do not enough value nor understand the extent of his mercy in coming upon earth to live with us, as well as to die for us. We do not enough remember that he was, in all points, tempted like as we are. Nay, although the wisdom of God has hidden from us the particulars of our

Lord's early life, to prevent, perhaps, many superstitions; yet that he was a child, that he was young, and knew the thoughts and feelings of boyhood no less than those of manhood, is a thing which we ought not to forget, nor omit to turn it to our benefit. Men forget what they were in their youth, or at best only partially remember it: it is hard, even for those whose memory is strongest and most lively, to put themselves exactly into the same position in which they stood as boys; they can scarcely fancy that there was once a time when they cared so much for pleasures and troubles which now seem so trifling. And it may be, that if we rise hereafter to angels' stature; if wisdom be ours such as now we dream not of; if being counted worthy to know God as he is, the poorness of all created pleasures shall be revealed to us, flashing upon our awakened spirits like light, it may be that we shall then feel it as hard to fancy how we could have cared for what we now deem most important; how twenty years, more or less, taken from this span of our earthly life; how being parted for a few years, more or less, from those friends with whom we are now united for ever; how this could have seemed of any importance to beings born