are already exciting the spiritual jealousy of Him "whom our soul loveth," and it becomes His duty, just because He loves us, to “withdraw Himself" from us, and if that be followed by fresh acts of carelessness,-if the inward pain which we are then and there conscious of, does not lead us right back again to His feet,—if we do not endure the painful search that may be entailed by our own unfaithfulness, and gladly endure it in order to get back to our old position, then there comes a chill upon our relationship, we begin to try and discover how we can get on without Him, and when once the soul has begun to get on without Jesus tolerably comfortably, whatever the outward appearance of the life may be, thou hast "left thy first love."

I need not enumerate other ways; other means in which this fatal step may be taken; they will occur to your minds, dear friends. In some cases, they will be suggested by your own painful experience. Why have I spoken upon this somewhat sorrowful subject, this afternoon? Is it because the case of the church at Ephesus was a hopeless one? No, on the contrary, there was a great deal very hopeful about it. Why, then? Because the case of the church at Ephesus was an urgent one. Yes, an urgent one. Why urgent? Because every day that they continued in that state of half-life—(for it is only half-life when love is gone out of our life)—their spiritual position was becoming more and more precarious, the power of death was gaining on them, by-and-bye life would have become altogether extinct, if that fearful process had gone forward. So He who loved their souls gave them this word of advice, "Remember from whence thou hast fallen, and repent, and do the first works, or else I will come unto thee quickly and remove thy candlestick out of its place, except thou repent."

What is the first word of advice? The first word is "Remember." I wish I could imprint that word on the hearts of all who, in any degree, have fallen from their "first love." You think of those sunny hours that are passed, the light of former days; cannot you remember that? What are you to remember? "Remember from whence thou art fallen." O, my friends, that is a startling word-"fallen." This church at Ephesus, this splendid spiritual building, with its grand organisation, its earnest work, its labour, its perseverance, its orthodoxy-what, a fallen church? Yes, so said He who was so near it that He saw its real condition "Remember from

whence thou art fallen." Every man that has "lost his first love " is a fallen man; there may still be a great deal about him, but he is " fallen," oh, how far! Friends, let us take our true position if this be actually the case with us; let us smite upon our breasts and own that we are fallen, "fallen" from the highest position that man can occupy. What is that? The blessed position of walking with God. That is our privilege, that is our joy, and if we have got out of that, whatever we have left, we have fallen, fallen in the midst of our activities; fallen in the midst of our orthodoxy; and because we are "fallen we are prostrate, we are powerless to do God's "How

work.

Many Christians come to me, with the complaint,is it, sir, that I am so useless? How is it that I try to work for God, and yet seem to produce no result?" I am not a prophet, and I do not profess to see people's hearts, and I dare not say that it is because you have "left your first love,' but again and again the fear rises up within me, that that is the real explanation. One thing I am certain of. However hard the church at Ephesus worked, if it continued in this state, having "lost its first love," its testimony would by-and-bye have been silenced, its power paralysed, and all that it had accomplished in the Master's name would have simply ended in disaster and defeat. It must be so if we "leave our first love."

Friends, "remember from whence you are fallen." You say, "I do remember, with scalding tears,-I remember with aching heart,-I remember with blushing cheek,-I am ashamed of myself, I am disgusted with myself." Then there is another word of advice: "Do the first works." What were they? He that pens these words under Divine inspiration, from the lips of Jesus, had heard the Lord Jesus Christ, that same Saviour who is now speaking, use this phrase in the course of His ministry. The Jews ask Him, "What are the works of God? What shall we do that we may work the works of God?" And the answer that Jesus made was, "This is the work of God, that ye should believe on Him whom He hath sent." That is "the first work." In one sense it was no work” at all; in another sense it may justly be described as a work." It was an act—an act in which they were personal agents. That is "the first work" that the soul is to do. It is not until the soul, by faith, casts itself on the Lord

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Jesus Christ, that it begins to "work the works of God." Now," says our Lord of the church of Ephesus, "do the first work." What! must I go right back to the cross? Yes, right back to the cross. Must I be converted over again? No. He did not say that. You must get right back to the place of your birth,-right back to "the hole of the pit whence you have been digged," right back to the quarry "from whence you have been hewn." Lie low at the foot of the cross, and say-"Oh, Lord! I have wounded Thee in the house of Thy friends; I have turned my back on Thee; I have been unfaithful to Thy love; I have been unfaithful to my conjugal privileges; I have been no longer living with my Spouse, but living like a stranger; I have grieved Thy heart, and wounded Thy affection; at the foot of Thy dear cross I lie, and there I see my fresh guilt laid afresh upon the great Sin-Bearer, and again I lay this load, which is thus resting upon me, with such appalling influence, darkening my experience, blinding my life,-I lay this terrible load afresh on Thee, and afresh commit myself into Thy hands. I do not ask for joy, I do not ask for life, I do not ask for blessedness; let these come if Thou art pleased to give them to me: I do ask for Thyself, that there shall be no longer anything between me and Thee."

"The dearest idol I have known,

Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from Thy throne,
And worship only Thee."

That will help you. If you thus get near the cross, and "do the first work," you will find that He will lift you up out of that deadly death sleep, and give you such a look as He gave to Peter. Oh Lord, give us such a look this afternoon; let it pierce every loveless heart,—a look so full of tenderness, so full of sorrow; and then that "candlestick” of thine, instead of being taken out of its place-thy light, instead of being turned into darkness, shall burst forth into a new and exceedingly glorious flame; and from this time forth you may hope and trust that He will live in you, and you will live in Him.

And do I speak to any here who have not been able to understand what I have been saying, for the simple reason that they know nothing about a life of love? Are there any of whom it would be more true to say, "I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast no real love?" Are there any

upon whose altar the fire of love has never been kindled? There may be many: let me say a word to you in conclusion. Dear friends, your religion may be fair in its outward appearance, but if He, "whose eyes are as a flame of fire,” could find no satisfaction even in "the work, and labour, and patience" of the church at Ephesus, His own dear people, because they were without spiritual love-even for a season, how can He ever accept the homage which you offer to Him as a slave? You, who hope to buy heaven by your churchgoing, by your regularity in your church ordinances, and a thousand different things-do you think that is "love?" Until the life of love begins in your nature, there is no real life there, and if you have not real life, your whole religion is a mere delusion and a snare; it will leave you where you are, the slave of sin. You say, "How can I get it?" I reply, at the foot of the cross; that is the only place where "love" is born: it is born out of those gaping wounds; it streams into the soul in the tide of Immanuel's blood; it reveals itself in the dying agonies of the Son of God; it lays hold of my affection; it masters my will, as I hear the voices of His sorrow. It is the love of God in Christ that kindles love within my nature. Only as I accept His love, can I know anything about His love to me. You may go through a thousand years' penance, that will not make you "love God." You may lacerate your body,—that will not make you "love God." You may fast until you are a skeleton,—that will not make you "love God." You may read your Bible until you have worn the leaves away,—that will not make you "love God," Get one good view of the cross, one view of the dying Son of Man, let the light from the cross flash into your soul, let the voice of mercy fall upon your ear, gaze up and see there Jesus paying your debt, and God satisfied with what He has done; then shall the tide of love flow into your inmost soul, and back again, returning to its source, God Himself shall gaze with satisfaction upon the fire which He Himself has kindled, and rejoice to claim you as His own espoused bride for time and for eternity.

II.

Who Touched Me?"

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"And Jesus said, Who touched Me?"-LUKE viii. 45.

HERE are some scenes in the life of our Lord Jesus
Christ which seem to have been (shall I say?) stereo-

typed, the moment they transpired, so that we have constantly been obtaining fresh impressions of them on subsequent occasions. How true it seems that our blessed Lord is still walking upon the troubled sea,-still cheering the storm-tossed mariner with the words, "Peace, be still! it is I; be not afraid!” Still He seems to be breaking the five loaves amongst the five thousand, and employing inadequate means for the fulfilment of His own blessed purpose, and the satisfaction of our desires. Still He seems to be passing through the porches of Bethesda, amongst the children of sorrow, with tender solicitude in His enquiring look. Still He seems to be standing by the tomb of a Lazarus, with tears of sympathy in His eye, and the word of power on His lips. Still, as in this present instance, our blessed Lord seems to be in the midst of a multitude. Although He seeks no more now than He did then to attract the attention of those who surround Him,-though He does not lay Himself out to court publicity,—yet the Lord Jesus Christ seems to be ever necessarily an object of attention to all. Wherever He goes, He arrests human attention, and centres upon Himself human interest; and wherever He goes, we may say that He arrests the human gaze. Do what they will, they cannot keep away altogether from the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. They may repudiate His fame: they may even refuse to believe in His character; and yet they cannot persuade themselves to leave Him alone: they must draw near to Him. Still, in some strange way, He lays hold of the human fancy: He binds the human heart; He attracts our thoughts: He bends our will even when we are not conscious of His influence.

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