floods drown it. To what lengths it will go, in order to pardon a

beware of sin. Keep thyself pure. Walk and speak circumspectly. Follow the Lord fully.

2. What God's inflexibility is.—He cannot change. He cannot call that no sin which is sin; nor that a small sin which is a great sin; nor that a private sin which was a public sin. His purpose is not the easy, pliable, changeable thing which ours is. He is the God only wise, only righteous, only mighty, and is, therefore, above all such vacillations. He is without variableness or shadow of turning; the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. O saint, remember that thou hast to do with a holy and unchangeable God! O sinner, think that thou hast also to do with him, and that this inflexibility is, as yet, all against thee! He will not alter either his law or his gospel to suit you. You must take them as they are, or perish for ever! It is true that he who believeth shall be saved; it is as true that he who believeth not shall be damned!

3. What the grace of God is.—Many waters cannot quench it, nor the floods drown it. To what lengths it will go, in order to pardon a sinner or to bless a saint! Believer, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus! Unbelieving man, take refuge now in that rich grace which is still held out to thee, for the forgiveness of all thy sins, and for the bestowment of blessings, and joys, and hopes; which will make thee richer than Israel with his earthly Canaan; gladder than Moses with his bright vision of the land flowing with milk and honey!

SERMON L

CHRIST AND THE NEW CREATION

"If any man (one) be in Christ, he is a new creature (there is a new creation to him); old things are passed away; behold, all things are be come new."—2 COR. 5:17.

IT is usual to make this affirmation of the apostle refer merely to the change of nature which takes place in conversion. For then the renewal of man's whole being is effected; the "inner man" undergoes a total transformation; the old man passes away, and the new man comes in his place. In all parts of being we experience a change, save in these "vile bodies," whose renewal is not to be looked for till the appearing of the Lord.

That the words include and imply all this there can be no doubt. For all that is excellent in the matter of restoration must begin with the individual man, and must begin, too, with the innermost region of the individual man. Hence it is written, "Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God," intimating that all true connection with the coming kingdom must begin with personal renewal.

"In Christ," "a new creature," how much do these words imply! How complete the inward transformation which they describe! What condemnation do they pronounce upon the shallow, meagre religion so common among us, making us feel that hardly any description of its professors could be more exaggerated or unreal than that of being "in Christ," and "new creatures." Take yon member of the Church. He wears the garb and bears the name of Christ. He is a fair average specimen of a large class. He has the reputation of being a Christian; yet he is fond of the world; he grasps at its gold; he loves its fashionable gaiety; he reads its novels; he frequents its haunts of amusement; he enjoys its company; he relishes its foolish talking and jesting;—is he "a new creature," is he "in Christ Jesus?" Is it possible that, with so much worldliness, so much selfishness, so much selfindulgence, so much pleasing of the flesh, he can have been "begotten again," whatever his profession may be?

"In Christ!" How mighty the expression! How singular, yet how exact the description! "In Christ," then, out of the world. "In Christ," then, out of self! "In Christ," then, no more in the flesh, no more in sin, no more in vanity, no more in darkness, no more in the crooked paths of the god of this world. "A new creature!"—then, from the very root of being, upward throughout all its branches, a marvellous change has taken place, a change which nothing can fitly describe, save the creating of all things out of nothing at the beginning, or the newcreating of this corrupted world into a glorious earth and heaven, when the Lord returns to take possession of it as his kingdom for ever. "A new creature!"—then old feelings, old habits, old tastes, old hopes, old joys, old sorrows, old haunts, old companionships,—all are gone! Old things have passed away, all things have become new. Christ in us, and we in Christ,—how thorough and profound the change must have been! "Christ formed in us," nay, "in us the hope of glory;" and we created in Christ unto good works after the very likeness of incarnate Godhead,—how inconceivably glorious the renewal,—the transfiguration wrought in us,—for nothing short of transfiguration is it, considered even in its general and most common aspect.

But the expression is a peculiar one, and worthy of our careful notice. It is not, "If any man be a new creature, he is in Christ Jesus; as if the being in Christ were merely a result of his being a new creature; but it is, "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature;" implying that it is his inbeing in Christ that makes him a new creature, and that this newness of being springs from his being in Christ. It is the soil of paradise alone that can produce the trees of righteousness, so it is our being "rooted in Christ" that gives birth and growth to the new creation. It is not the tree that makes the soil, but the soil the tree. What would even the vine, or the fig, or the pomegranate, be, if planted on the bare rock, or the salt, grey sand? Let us then mark the words,—"If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature." It is his grafting into Christ that has made him what he is. Christ himself is the soil in which the Holy Spirit plants, with his own hand, the trees that grow up and flourish in the courts of our God.

But the words are even more peculiar than our translation shews. Literally rendered, they give this sense, "If any man be in Christ, there is a new creation,"—that is, a new creation is the result; a creation not less perfect or majestic than that which the prophet announces, "Behold, I create new heavens and a new earth;" or than that which Christ himself proclaims, when it is said, "He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new." Thus, then, in the case of the man that is in Christ Jesus, there is "a new creation,"—a new creation within, a new creation without,—a new creation already in part accomplished, but waiting its blessed consummation when the great Creator returns in glory to complete his handiwork within and without, in soul and in body, in heaven and in earth.

Let us look, then, at this new creation, first, as it is within us; and secondly, as it is without us.

I. The new creation within.—This I do not confine to the mere renewing of our moral nature. It seems to take a wider range.

(1.) First of all, it points to our new standing before God. If I be a new creature in Christ, then I stand before God, not in myself, but in Christ. He sees no longer me, but only him in whom I am,—him who represents me, Christ Jesus, my substitute and surety. In believing, I have become so identified with the Son of his love, that the favour with which he regards him passes over to me, and rests, like the sunshine of the new heavens, upon me. In Christ, and through Christ, I have acquired a new standing before the Father. I am "accepted in the beloved." My old standing, viz., that of distance, and disfavour, and condemnation, is wholly removed, and I am brought into one of nearness, and acceptance, and pardon: I am made to occupy a new footing, just as if my old one had never been. Old guilt, heavy as the mountain, vanishes; old dread, gloomy as midnight, passes off; old suspicion, dark as hell, gives place to the joyful confidence arising from forgiveness and reconciliation, and the complete blotting out of sin. All things are made new. I have changed

my standing before God; and that simply in consequence of that oneness between me and Christ, which has been established, through my believing the record given concerning him. I come to him on a new footing, for I am "in Christ," and in me there has been a new creation.

(2.) It points to our new relationship to God. If I am a new creature, then I no longer bear the same relationship to God. My old connection has been dissolved, and a new one established. I was an alien once, I am now a son; and as a son, have the privilege of closest fellowship. Every vestige of estrangement between us is gone. At every point, instead of barriers rising up to separate and repel, there are links, knitting us together in happiest, closest union. Enmity is gone on my part, displeasure on his. He calls me son, I call him Father. Paternal love comes down on his part, filial love goes up on mine. The most entire mutual confidence has been established between us. No more a stranger and a foreigner, I am become a fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the household of God, every cloud being withdrawn that could cast a single shadow upon the simple gladness of our happy intercourse. There has been truly a new creation; "old things have passed away, all things have become new." Our new relationship is for eternity. He is eternally my Father; and I am eternally his son.

(3.) It points to the spiritual renewal of the whole inner man. In this respect the new creation has done wonders indeed. It has not only broken my chains, and given me the liberty of the heavenly adoption, but it has altered the whole frame and bent of my being, so that, as formerly, by the law of my old nature, I sought the things beneath, so now, by the necessity of my new nature, I seek the things above. Sin has become hateful, holiness supremely attractive. The flesh has lost its power, the Spirit has gotten dominion. The vision has been purged, so that now I see everything as with a new eye; the evil, with an eye that loathes it; the good, with an eye that loves it. I approach everything with new feelings, new tastes, new sympathies and antipathies. I behold everything in a new light, and from a new

position and point of view. Myself, this world, the world to come, God and Christ, and the everlasting joys,—all these are to me now what they have never been before. My whole inner man has changed respecting them. There has been a new creation.

Oh, the unimaginable blessedness of those on whom this new creation has taken place. Oh, the unutterable, the endless misery of those on whom no change has passed, in whom old things still remain, and who shall be left for ever to the dominion of that old nature, in which there is the love of sin and the hatred of Christ, and the enmity to God, and all that can fill the soul with woe and darkness; all that can create a hell to man or devil,—a a hell within and a hell without; a hell, with its consuming fire and its everlasting curse; a hell, with its despair and darkness, and incurable remorse; a hell, with all the memories of quickened conscience, and the stings of its undying worm; a hell, with its separation from heaven and all holy beings; a hell, with its weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth!

II. We speak, in the second place, of the new creation without. What we have already said regarding the new creation is certainly contained in the apostle's words; but it does not exhaust them. There is more behind; and in reading the passage in its whole connection, we are made to feel as if its special reference were to the new creation without,—the new creation which we look for at the coming of the Lord. In this, the words find their complete fulfilment. This only exhausts or fills up the expression, "There is a new creation." This only rightly satisfies the description, "Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

And this is truly the manner of Scripture. It makes use of an expression whose vast compass includes a great range of kindred objects. It takes up a figure which will apply to the whole of a particular process, or series of steps, and which, according to the circumstances, we may use to denote the beginning or the end, the first small unfolding or the perfect consummation, of which that first unfolding was the germ, or root, or seed. Thus the word

"redemption" is used; sometimes referring to the first step of that process,—the plucking us out of the prison of the strong one,—and sometimes to the glorious summing-up, in the resurrection of the body and the installation into the kingdom. In like manner "salvation" is used, so that in one place we are said to be already saved, in believing; at another time, we are said to be waiting for a salvation which the mighty Saviour is to bestow on us when he "appears the second time, without sin, unto salvation." Thus the new creation comprehends everything which that word can denote,—the renewal of the inner man at conversion, the restoration of the outer man at the resurrection of the just, the introduction into that kingdom of glory which is to consist of "new heavens and a new earth." The apostle's words would thus signify, not merely that if any man be in Christ he is made new within, but if any man be in Christ he is made an inheritor of the new creation, an heir of God, and a joint-heir with Christ Jesus. There has been a new creation within, and its counterpart, the new creation without, is as certainly his inheritance. The one is the beginning and earnest of the other. The indwelling Spirit, who is the author of the new creation, is the earnest of the inheritance, until the redemption of the purchased possession, and by him we are sealed unto the day of redemption.

But how is it, then, that the apostle speaks of this new creation as past already, whereas it is yet to come? For the same reason, and in the same way, that he speaks of our "having received a kingdom," whereas the kingdom is yet future; of our being made kings and priests, whereas our kingship and priesthood are not yet realised; of our having "come to mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem," whereas we are only on our way to these; of our being seated with Christ in heavenly places, whereas we are still sojourners on earth. In these passages we are represented as actually having that, which will, ere long, be ours; we are spoken of as actually in the midst of scenes, which are shortly to compass us about. We are said and supposed to be where faith places us,—faith, which "is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." So powerful and so intense is the anticipation of faith, that

what is future becomes present, nay, past; what is invisible becomes visible, what is far off becomes nigh.

In the passage before us, then, the apostle at once carries us forward into the midst of promised glory. If we are in Christ, then are we not only where he is just now, at the Father's right hand, but where he shall be hereafter, when he comes to make all things new. To be in Christ is to be in the midst of that new creation, which is to come forth from the ruins of these old heavens and this worn-out earth. If any be in Christ, then to him the new creation has come,—"Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new." He is not so much one dwelling in this valley of tears, or even one looking from the hills of Moab, to survey the land of his inheritance; he is like one who has already reached his glorious home,—who sees around him the perfections of the new creation,—to whom old things have passed away, and all things have been made new, and who is looking back upon this land of the storm and the curse, as one who has escaped its evils, and on the wings of a dove has found his way to the city of peace, and laid himself down upon the banks of the pure river, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. Thus faith is taught to anticipate the glory, and to dwell in the midst of it, as if it had actually arrived; so that if any man be in Christ, to him the new creation has already come; "Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

If these things be so, then how differently, from from what we too often do, should we read such chapters as the two closing ones of Revelation. It is not imagination, dwelling upon pictures, as some speak; it is faith conducting us into the very midst of the reality. It is not a prying curiosity, craving after excitement, that incites us to conjecture or speculation as to what we shall be hereafter; it is faith leading us into the many mansions, and bidding us dwell there even now. It is not visions or dreams, giving us pictures of the unreal; it is faith transporting us at once into the midst of the real, so that in reading God's revelation respecting the new creation, we feel as if we

were more truly and sensibly surrounded by its unseen glories than by all that we here touch, and taste, and hear, and see.

If these things be so, then what manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness? For our dwellings are not now outside the courts of God, or merely within view of a far-off glory. They are within the sanctuary, nay, within the holy of holies. Beside the mercy-seat, within the veil, under the very brightness of Jehovah's presence,—there faith places us; there we pitch our tents; there we spend our days. And surely, by beholding this glory, not afar off, but nigh, we ought to be changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.

To be in Christ Jesus! How much may be expected from us, in all holiness, and truth, and conformity to the will of God. To be seated with him in heavenly places, partakers of his love and throne,—what ought this elevation to do for us, in bringing us into the resemblance of him at whose side we are seated! To see and feel ourselves so surrounded with the purity and glory of the new creation, as that the new heavens and earth seem nearer us, and more closely in contact with us, than this present evil world,—what a purifying influence ought such a thought to exert upon us! What manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness? How entire should be the separation between us and a world such as this,—a world whose influences are all unholy, whose tendencies are all downward, and whose friendship is enmity with God. If we be in Christ, then its old things have passed away, passed out of sight, and are to us among the things that were, but now are not. If we be in Christ, then the new things of "the world to come" have taken their room, and are to us the great realities which occupy both eye and ear. What, then, have we to do with sin, with the flesh, with the vanities of so vain a life as the men of earth are leading? Our "conversation," our "citizenship," is in heaven. How consistent, then, ought we to be, how watchful, how circumspect in word deed, and that men may know how completely we have broken our connection with this present evil world. Our relationship to the new creation, "the

inheritance of the saints in light," is close and sure! How thoroughly conformed to this "world to come" ought we to be!

Again, if these things be so, how little ought we to be moved by the tribulations that attend us. Offences will come, sorrows will come, burdens, cares, annoyances, thorns in the flesh, will come. We shall be tempted; we shall suffer; we shall be shot at by the archers; we shall groan, being burdened; we shall be weary and faint, and sometimes heavy-hearted. But let us not be shaken. Let none of these things move us, or occasion aught of dismay and darkness, as if all were going wrong with us. Let us call to mind the new creation into which we have been introduced. Let us look around us on its glories, and go upon our way rejoicing. Why should we be cast down with the changes of the changing earth, seeing the unchangeable is already ours? Why should we be fretted, and vexed, and tossed too and fro, when old things have passed away, and all things have become new? Why should we sigh, and weep, and bow down the head, seeing the lines have fallen unto us in such pleasant places, and so goodly a heritage is ours?

SERMON LI

APOSTOLIC SIGHS

"I would to God ye did reign, that we also might reign with you."—1 COR. 4:8.

THIS is one of the very few passages in which the apostle gives vent to his feelings as a suffering and injured man. Through no less than six verses here (8–13), there runs the utterance of a solemn sorrow,— we might almost call it melancholy,—at the contemplation of his present lot as an apostle of the Lord.

His life had many a bitterness. Danger, weariness, contempt, persecution, hunger, thirst, naked ness, buffeting, reviling, stoning, bonds;—these were its chief earthly ingredients; and had there not been something heavenly, compensating for all these, he would have been, of all men, most miserable. He felt the sorrow; for conversion had not lifted him out of the region of human feeling; yet, he seldom refers to it; and when he does, it is more with triumph than with sadness; as when he says, "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us" (Rom. 8:18.)

Here his reference to his sorrows has more in it of sadness than elsewhere. Yet he has not repented of his course; he is not ashamed of his apostleship; he is willing to drink even a bitterer cup than he has yet tasted. The sadness that thus comes is altogether natural, and shews how truly the apostle was a man; a man of like passions with ourselves. We get a passing insight into the noble soul, and learn how profoundly he felt the evils, that, like the waves of the storm, beat upon him without ceasing; and how oftentimes his heart was like to break, even in the midst of the joy unspeakable and full of glory,

He does not draw back, nor refuse to pay the cost of apostleship. He accepts the present honour and the coming glory, with all their conditions and penalties. For the joy set before him he endures the shame. But he feels the agony; and Oh, with what a tone of serene, yet shaded feeling do we hear him speak these words, "I think that God hath set forth us the apostles last, as it were appointed to death; for we are made a spectacle unto the world, and to angels, and to men. We are fools for Christ's sake, but ye are wise in Christ; we are weak, but ye are strong; ye are honourable, but we are despised.

Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwelling-place; and labour, working with our own hands; being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we suffer it; being defamed, we entreat; we are made as the filth of the world, and are the offscouring of all things unto this day."

With some, I fear, there is more than the apostle's sorrow. They do not, perhaps, repent having taken up the cross; but they shrink sometimes from what it has brought upon them. They counted on a little, but it has come to much. They gladly took up the cross, but they had not ascertained its weight and its sharpness. They were prepared for some bitterness; but not for all this gall and wormwood. They made ready for battle, but the fight has proved sorer and longer than they dreamed of. They were not unwilling to bear shame for his name; but the reproach has proved heavier than they can bear. They knew that they were to meet resistance from the world;—but not all this enmity, this malignity, this misrepresentation. They did not refuse sacrifice and suffering; but the poverty, the disappointment, and the all but broken heart, have gone beyond their calculations. The wounds are deeper, the fiery darts are sharper, the furnace is hotter, the road is rougher, the hill is higher, the stream is deeper, than they had thought.

They do not wish they had not become Christians; but they hardly know what to do, nor which way to turn. They submit, but they do not count it all joy. They have the sadness of the apostle, without his exulting gladness. His was but half a sorrow, because of the joy; theirs is but half a joy, because of the sorrow. In such a case, they need to be put in mind of the apostolic hope, by which the primitive Church was sustained, lest Satan should get an advantage over them, or lest they be weary and faint in their minds.

There is another class of Christians, however, of whom Paul here more especially speaks. They are the easy-minded and self-satisfied, who think themselves full and rich. They have not been emptied from

vessel to vessel, and so they have settled on their lees. They are not Laodiceans, but very near them; they are not foolish virgins, but very like them. They would not think of following the world; but they do not like the idea of confronting and condemning it. They would rather be saved from the ill-will and scorn which separation from its vanities and gaieties is sure to produce; all the while enjoying Christianity at their firesides, and congratulating themselves on the prudence by means of which they have succeeded in avoiding the reproach, without relinquishing their profession. They would rather not expose themselves to too much shame, for over-zeal, or overdecision, or over-boldness in the cause of Christ. A little compromise with the world, they think, does no harm. A proper enjoyment of its harmless amusements, they are persuaded, is of great benefit to themselves, and of wonderful use in conciliating worldly men, and smoothing away their prejudices. They look with no small dislike upon the outspoken fervour of fearless single-eyed disciples, to whom Christ is everything, and the world nothing; nay, they join with the scoffer in reviling these men as excited enthusiasts; professing themselves the best of Christians all the while, and announcing that the religion they admire is unostentatious and undemonstrative, modest and retiring; nay, they grow warm in denouncing zeal for Christ, and never fail to add that these overzealous Christians do more harm than good. Of such it is that the apostle writes these words of solemn rebuke,—"Now ye are full, now ye are rich, ye have reigned as kings without us." And it is in reference to their conduct that he adds these other words of sorrowful irony,—"I would to God ye did reign, that we also might reign with you;" I would it were what you seem to think, the time of the kingdom; I would that the day of reigning were come, that we might be delivered from these calamities; but, alas for us, that day has not yet broken; we are not in the kingdom yet, but only suffering the tribulation on the way to it.

Let us now ascertain the exact teaching of these words.

I. There is a reign for us.—We are made kings and priests unto God, in virtue of our oneness with him who is our King and Priest as well as God's King and Priest. The Church is a royal priesthood, a noble band of Melchisedecs, each one of which can say even now, "We have received the kingdom that cannot be moved." In unison with the host above, we sing not only, "Thou hast redeemed us by thy blood," but, "We shall reign on the earth." It doth not yet appear what we shall be,—for the disguise of mortality is on us,—but we know that the crown of life, the crown of righteousness, is in store for us, and that, if we suffer, we shall also reign. Not safety merely, nor blessedness, nor glory, but a kingdom, a sceptre, a throne. The world's reign is now; the Church's reign is coming. Satan is now earth's prince; Christ will soon be king.

II. That reign will end our tribulation. There is first the suffering, and then the glory. The dawn of the glory is the dispersion of the clouds, and the stilling of the storm. For that glory comes from the presence of the glorious one; and in his presence there can be no mourning, and no darkness. It is his reign, as well as ours; and into his kingdom nothing that defileth or darkeneth shall enter. Were that era still the time of his absence, we could not be assured of its unmingled brightness; but it is the day of his presence, and that is the assurance to us of its sorrowless splendour. There shall be no night there, for the sun goes not down. There shall be no more curse, for the Blessed One is there. The winter is past; the rain is over and gone; the clouds return no more. Not the kingdom only, but the King, has come; and with him all his saints. The last battle is over; the usurper dethroned and bound; mortality is swallowed up of life; the days of mourning are ended; the tears are wiped away. The marriage of the Lamb is come; the Bride and the Bridegroom have met; the New Jerusalem has descended; Solomon and Pharaoh's daughter are upon its throne. We shall hear no longer of a church militant and a church triumphant; no more of a "divided Christ," or a "divided Church;" part weeping, part rejoicing; some above, some below; souls in heaven, bodies in the grave; Christ's redeemed members scattered everywhere. All this is over. Separation, distance, death, toil,

weariness, sighing,—all have fled away. The year of the redeemed is come. Their reproach is ended; their reigning is begun.

III. We are to look and long for that reign.—When the apostle says, "I would to God that ye did reign, that we also might reign with you," he meant to say, "Oh that that day were come which ye seem to think has arrived already; then should we and you rejoice and triumph together." He saw nothing on this side of that reign but reproach and tribulation. Streaks of sunlight there might be, but not the day. Hours of rest might relieve the lifetime's weariness, but "the rest that remaineth" was awaiting the arrival of the King.

In prosperous days the Church has forgotten these things; becoming contented with the imperfect and the mortal; ceasing to sigh for the incorruptible and the undefiled. Hence she cannot be trusted with ease. This has always been to her a peril and a snare. In gracious wisdom God has made her path rough and her cup bitter; that she may not take her ease, nor tarry by the way; but set her affection on things above.

In telling us of the kingdom, God meant us to think much of it, to desire it, to count all earth a shadow when compared to it. Our eyes are to be upward, eastward, watching for the day. Our "hearts' desire and prayer" is to be for the hastening of the kingdom. For the Church's sake, as well as for our own, we are to plead for its arrival. This is our hope; and there is none like it! These are our prospects, and what is there here that can come between them and us! It is not sentimentalism, nor fanaticism, nor fancy, to desire the kingdom. It is simple faith; that faith which is the substance of things hoped for. Love, too, constrains us to these longings. Yes, love; love to the king compels us; for while the expectation of glory to ourselves is no mean nor feeble motive; yet, above and beyond this, there is personal attachment to the Lord himself;—true-hearted loyalty which quickens within us the vehement longing that he should be glorified!

SERMON LII

THE CHURCH'S AMEN

"He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly: Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen."—REV. 22:20, 21.

IT is "the true Witness" that speaks here. He speaks from heaven; and not to his apostles merely, nor to the seven Asian churches, nor to the saints of his own age; but to us in these last times.

This is the final burden of the Church's great prophet; and these last words of his are heard, not in Jerusalem or its temple, by crowds of listeners in the old land of prophets; but in a Gentile island afar off, amid desolate silence; as if to intimate that the glory had departed from Israel, and that the sure word of prophecy, though still issuing from Jewish lips, must no longer be spoken in Israel's land. The voice which we hear is that of "one crying in the wilderness;" and speaking, across the waves of the Ægean, to the distant nations of earth, and to the ages yet to come.

Yes; the Speaker is the "Faithful Witness," the "Amen," the firstbegotten of the dead, the Alpha and the Omega;—He of the "golden girdle" (1:13); and the "golden candlesticks" (1:12); and the "seven stars" (1:16); and the "flaming eyes" (1:14); whose "voice is as the sound of many waters" (1:15). It is He, indeed, "the root and the offspring of David, the bright and morning star!"

It is of the last things that he speaks; and these concern us more deeply, as the ages roll by. The time has been long; longer than the church believed in early days; but the lapse of so many ages is to us the best assurance, that the time of tarrying is drawing to a close; that the night is far spent, and the day at hand.

There are five last things here which form the contents of this final burden: the last testimony; the last prophecy; the last prayer; the last blessing; the last Amen.

I. The last testimony.—The whole Bible is the testimony; for in it Christ is both the teacher and the lesson, the witness and the testimony. But the Revelation is his last testimony; and the marvellous words of the latter part of this chapter are more especially so. Let the Church listen; let the world give heed.

Oh, but they say the tongues of dying men

Enforce attention, like deep harmony.

And these are more than the words of dying men. They are Christ's last words from the heaven of heavens; fraught with infinite significance; breathing both love and terror, like the very "trump of God." Terrible is the warning, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still;" yet winning is the grace, "Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely." Glorious is the proclamation, "I am the root and the offspring of David, the bright and morning star;" yet blessed the attitude in which it seeks to place us, "The Spirit and the bride say, COME; and let him that heareth say, COME." Truly this final testimony is the fullest, the most startling of all. It sounds like the voice of the last trumpet.

II. The last prophecy.—"Surely I come quickly." Brief but distinct is this announcement; and it comes from his own lips. He heralds himself and his kingdom. He puts the trumpet to his own mouth to sound abroad this last message, "I come!" I came, and I come! I who came, and departed, am coming again. Yes, I myself! Not certain

great events, whether terrible or glorious; not revolutions merely, or wars, or the overthrow of kingdoms, or famines, or pestilences; but I myself in person! Not the latter-day brightness only, nor the spread of truth, nor the restoration of Israel, nor the conversion of the world; but I myself in person! Ah, yes; this is the one mighty event which fills up the vast future of the world's history, and makes all other things to seem as nothing. "I come quickly." Here is something more. He will lose no time; nor delay a moment longer than is absolutely necessary. He will not be slack concerning his promise (2 Pet. 3:9); he will come, and not tarry (Heb. 10:37) A faithless church shall not be able to say, "My Lord delayeth his coming" (Luke 12:45); nor a world of mockers to ask, "Where is the promise of his coming" (2 Pet. 3:4)? Yes; "Surely I come quickly." Appearances may indicate no such thing; the world's sky may be cloudless, and its sea smooth; men may have assured themselves of prosperous days, and be saying, "Peace and safety;" yet surely he cometh! As a snare, as a thief, as lightning, he cometh! He, the very Christ, the risen Saviour, Jesus of Nazareth,—he cometh! In his own glory, in his Father's glory, with his mighty angels, in the clouds of heaven, King and Judge, Conqueror and Avenger, Redresser of wrongs, Opener of prison doors, Binder of Satan, Renewer of creation, Bridegroom of his Church, Star of Jacob, Sun of Righteousness, Owner of the golden sceptre, Wielder of the iron rod, Wearer of the crowns of earth,—he cometh!

III. The last prayer.—"Amen. Even so come, Lord Jesus;" or, as the words more literally run, "Yes, surely, come, Lord Jesus;" for the words the apostle here uses, in his response, are the same as those used by Christ in his announcement; as if he caught up the Master's words and echoed them. Thus gladly and fervently does the Church respond to the promise; as one who felt the blank created by the Lord's absence, and welcomed with her whole heart the intimation of his return; for she is her beloved's and her beloved is hers; his desire is toward her, and hers is toward him. This is the summing up of her petitions, as was the seventy-second Psalm the filling up of all David's prayers (Ps. 72:20). Are our hearts, like hers, thus beating

toward the Beloved One? Is this the burden of our prayers? Or, at least, does this petition always form a part of them? Alas! Is not this the petition most commonly left out? Is not the Lord's advent the thing but seldom prayed for? We plead for the coming of the kingdom, but not for the arrival of the King. Yet this, more than ever in these last days, ought to be the first and last of the Church's prayers; for all that she desires for herself, for the world, and for her Lord himself, is comprised in this. It was the beloved disciple that first burst forth with this eager response, "Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus." The words came from the inmost soul of him who had, sixty years before, leaned on the Master's bosom. Sad because of the long absence, wearied with exile, tired with persecution, sore at heart because of the backsliding in the Churches, overwhelmed with the terrific announcements he had just been the instrument of uttering in his island-prison, he quickly took up the glad promise, and responded, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus." It ought to be so with us. We have many things to try us, and to make us long for the arrival of the Lord. We have this vile body to weigh us down. We have fightings without and fears within. We have sin and error and defection in the Church. We have abounding iniquity in the world. We have dear ones that have been laid to sleep by Jesus, in the grave, to await resurrection and reunion. Shall not these things, enforced by personal attachment to the Lord himself, prompt the unceasing petition, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus?"

IV. The last blessing.—"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all." Thus the Holy Spirit shuts up the volume; and the beloved disciple sends out this as his last salutation to the saints; as if he could ask nothing greater for the Church on earth than the communication of the free-love of him to whom he here gives his full designation, Lord Jesus Christ. It was on this free-love that we took our stand when first we received the Father's testimony to the beloved Son; and it is our belief of this free-love that makes us what we are, and separates us from a world to whom this free-love is nothing;—"we have known and believed the love that God hath to us." A small point of difference this may seem to many; but in God's

estimation everything;—the belief or disbelief of the free-love of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. It is on this free-love that we rest; it is out of this fountain that our enjoyment flows; and it is under the shadow of this pillar-cloud that we pass through the wilderness to the city of habitation. Let no evil heart of unbelief separate us from this grace, or make it seem less precious and divine. This is the pure river, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb. He that drinks is refreshed for evermore. What then can an apostle, knowing, as John did, the contents of this vessel of grace, desire more for the saints, than the continued possession of the Master's grace. It is this that, upon its calm current, carries into the soul all joy and strength, all health and consolation; and he who will allow these heavenly waters thus to pervade him will lack nothing. Earthly, human love, is of all things here the most fitted to gladden; how much more, then, that which is heavenly and divine! It is food, and water, and wine, and medicine; it is light, and air, and liberty, and refreshment; and what more can we desire, for the best beloved of our hearts, than this free-love of God; or what larger prayer can we breathe out towards them than this, "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you?"

V. The last amen.—This is not an amen to this chapter only, or this book only; but to the whole Bible; of which the burden, from Genesis to Revelation, is Jesus Christ, the seed of the woman. It is an amen to the prayer for the grace of Christ; it is an amen to the sigh for the Lord's appearing. It is an amen to the prophetic announcement of all the glorious and all the terrible things written in this book. It is the concentrated utterance of the Church's longings; her glad response to all that God has spoken; the subscription of her name to her belief in all that the Holy Spirit has written; the summing up of her unutterable groan. How much does this amen comprise! Faith, hope, and love are in it; and, with these, such a boundless satisfaction of spirit as can only get vent to itself in that one brief word, which sums up all the aspirations of its joy, "Amen and amen!"

As a golden clasp, it draws together and fastens into one the now finished parts of the heavenly volume; reminding us of its verity and perfection, its fulness and its accuracy, as the record not only of the thoughts, but the words of him who is himself the Word, the Truth, the divine Amen. As God's seal, it vouches for the infallible certainty of Scripture; as man's seal, it expresses his acquiescence, in that revelation, as well as his confidence in its teachings of wisdom, as the unchangeable and the true.

We, too, in this last age, add our Amen, as did David when he said, "The prayers of David the son of Jesse are ended." Ours is, indeed, but a fragment of the universal amen of heaven and earth, one note of the Church's triumphant utterance in the day when all shall be fulfilled that God has written from the beginning. Still, we speak it, as the setting of our seal to the truthfulness of that Holy Spirit by whom holy men of old spake as they were moved. Yes; we add our Amen;—solemn, yet joyful; retrospective, yet also prospective; the outbreathing of prayer, yet of hope as well; in the assurance, that what we read is no volume of speculation or opinion, still less of cunningly devised fables; but the book of truth,—fixed, authentic, divine,—the one genuine book of unmingled truth which an untrue world contains.

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