the love of an interceding Saviour? Is not intercession the utterance
of love. His exaltation is another pledge of love—love unquenched and unquenchable. He cannot rest till he has gone back to that heaven where alone he can complete the work which be had begun. There he has been seated in glory by the Father, "on the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens." And that love which had survived the shame of earth is not quenched by the glories of heaven. It pours itself out as freely in heaven as it did on earth. How strong the assurance of unchangeableness for ever in this love of the ascended Christ! Here is yet another bond, fastened at the Father's throne, between us and his love. Ah, surely that love must be for all the ages to come!
4. He maketh intercession for us.—Who then can separate us from the love of an interceding Saviour? Is not intercession the utterance of love? Do we plead for those we love not? Is not the intercession of Christ just his telling the Father how much he loves us, and how earnestly he desires our welfare? And is not this yet another bond fastened between us and his love? Does it not assure us that his love is, like himself, "without variableness"?
The promises of his second coming, so frequently repeated, are, in like manner, pledges to us of his love, as a love that cannot end or alter: for they shew us how greatly he desires re-union with us. Would he do so if he did not love? Would he do so if his love could change or grow weary? When he tells us, "I will see you again," or, "I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am there ye may be also," he surely gives intimation, not merely of a love that passeth knowledge, but of a love that admitted of no possibility of diminution or cessation throughout the ages to come.
As further assurance of this everlasting love, let us look at Christ's own words—"As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love" (John 15:9). Here he takes the Father's love to himself, and his own love to his people, and, placing them side by side with each other, declares the one to be the pledge, and measure, and likeness of the other. No other comparison could truly set forth
his love to us, save that of the Father to himself. When he would shew us what the state of his own heart is to us, he takes us to the Father's heart, and gives us a glimpse of the feelings in that paternal heart towards himself, as the only way of conveying a fitting representation or his love.
Of the Father's love to the Son we can have no doubt. It is infinitely certain and real. So real, so certain, and so true, is the love of Christ to us.
The Father's love to the Son is peculiar. It is a love such as he bears to no angel, to no creature. It is altogether and indescribably paternal. It cannot be conceived of nor approached. It stands alone. As is the relationship between the Father and the Son, so is the love. Both are peculiar,—peculiar in nature, in intimacy, in strength, in tenderness. Even such is the love of Christ to his own—altogether peculiar—a love liker to that love with which the Father loves him than any other love in the universe.
The Father's love to the Son is infinite; and though the Son's love to us cannot literally be so, still it is so far beyond any measurement or conception of ours, that no figure could rightly set it forth, save the love of the Father to the Son. Just as the Father's love to Christ rises inconceivably above all others, so Christ's love to us towers immeasurably above that which he bears to any other creature.
The Father's love to the Son is eternal. It cannot change, nor cease, nor cool. It must go on throughout the ages of ages. So Christ's love to us is unchangeable. It abides for ever constant. It is everlasting; nay, it cannot but be so, if it is to resemble the Father's love to him. If Christ's love to us be not thus unchangeable and eternal, what is the meaning of his life and death? Will he die for those whom he is to love only for a lifetime? Will he bear the Father's wrath for those whom he is not to love for ever? The eternity of his love is the only explanation of his agony and death. There is no accounting for one pang that he endured, save by the glorious truth that his love is
without end. This is the one key to unlock the mystery of his mighty love.
It is of this same everlasting love that the Lord speaks in another passage,—"I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it, that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them" (John 17:26). This is Christ's appeal to the Father. It is the summing up of his intercessions for his own. He speaks of himself as the declarer of the Father's name, that is, the revealer of the Father's character. He further declares his purpose of going on to declare that name—to unfold the wonders of that character, as if this were the Father's desire and purpose no less than his own. The result of this revelation was to be, that the Father's love might pour itself into them,—a love like that wherewith he loved the only begotten Son. Thus, not only does Christ compare pare his own love to them, to the Father's love to him; but he tells them that that very love of the Father towards himself was to be shared in by all his own.
Is not this love for the ages to come? Is it not eternal love—the love of him who is "from everlasting to everlasting God"? What must it be to be the objects of a love like this! What must it be to be "partakers of Christ," fellow-sharers with him in the fulness of the Father's love! What must it be to have our dwelling for eternity in the bosom of the Father—the very heart and home of love! It is the dwelling of the Son; and it is to be also ours. It is his by right of being and relationship to the Father; it is ours by adoption and by relationship to the Son. To be one with him who is one with the Father, is surely security enough for our eternal possession of the heart of Godhead. It is love for evermore.
We got it, indeed, in virtue of no claim of our own. It fell upon us like the dew upon the flowers; the only apparent attraction being our repulsive unlovableness, and cold unlovingness. Like the sun, it rose freely upon our world, that its inhabitants might enjoy the radiance, though unthankful and unworthy. We were as dark as others, and as unwilling to be visited with the light; but the Holy Spirit put forth his
almighty power, and our resistance gave way. We were made to feel our need of such a love, and we opened our bosoms to receive its fulness. This is all we can say for ourselves: "We have known and believed the love which God hath to us" (1 John 4:16). We heard the report of this free love; we inquired, and found it to be true; we believed the love, and so we became sons and heirs. Once in possession of this love, we cannot lose it. It becomes our inalienable possession,—our treasure for eternity.
In writing the Roman Church, the apostle gives them this name, "Beloved of God." And is not this the name of every saint? Is not this the inscription on the forehead of the Church? It is; nor could there be any badge or title more excellent. It is the noblest and the most precious that she could wear. Her badge of royalty is nothing to this. Her badge of priesthood is nothing to this. All the names of honour and dignity with which she is encircled, as with the very jewels of heaven, are nothing to this. What adorning, what treasure, what crown, what kingdom, what splendour of dignity, can be compared to the blessedness and privilege of being the "beloved of God"?
It is the name which the Father has given to his Son,—"This is my beloved Son;" and, therefore, it becomes her whose members are sons and heirs, and whose name is "the Church of the first-born." It is a name most suitable to her who is "the Bride, the Lamb's wife," and who in early ages was addressed by the Bridegroom as "his sister, his love, his dove, his undefiled" (Song 5:2).
What a portion is this for those whose parentage, and character, and doings, entitled them only to the divine abhorrence—only to be hated, not loved by God! Yet this wondrous portion God has all along been bestowing on them. It was Israel's portion,—"Yea, he loved the people" (Deut. 33:3), and they are still "beloved for the Father's sake" (Rom. 11:28). It was specially Benjamin's portion,—"The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by him" (Deut. 33:12). It was David's portion; for his name is "The Beloved." It was Solomon's portion; for his name was "Jedidiah," that is, "beloved of Jehovah" (2 Sam.
12:25); and Nehemiah writes concerning him: "Among many nations there was no king like him who was beloved of his God" (Neh. 13:26). It was Daniel's portion,—"A man greatly beloved." It was John's portion,—"The beloved disciple." Yet all these are but fragments; they are the mere shadows of the Church's privilege in her full possession of the love of God.
This love is eternal. "I have loved thee with an everlasting love" (Jer. 31:3). It is love before all ages that are past, and love unto all ages that are to come. The Church is chosen and loved from eternity, and the results of this choice and this love will be seen in the eternity that lies before her. This love is unchangeable. It is not fickle and impulsive. There are no ebbing tides, no wintry seasons, in this love; it abides the same. It is boundless. Its dimensions are altogether infinite; it is deeper than earth, higher than heaven. This immeasurable love surrounds us like a heavenly atmosphere—an atmosphere of light and joy. It is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost. He teaches us what it is to be the "beloved of God," as well as what it is to be "chosen in Christ," and "accepted in the Beloved." Our life on earth is to be the enjoyment of this love in some poor measure—but it is our eternity that is to be the enjoyment of it to the full.
What peace should fill us! "Beloved of God"—what a sound of peace do the very words carry with them! Yes; it is peace—peace profound —peace unutterable—peace that seems like fragrance from the "mountain of myrrh, and the hill of frankincense." Nay, but it is more than peace; it is joy—joy unspeakable, and full of glory. It is the joy of being beloved by one so glorious and divine. Whoever may hate us, Jehovah loves us. Whoever may spurn us, Jehovah embraces us in his arms. We are the "beloved of God."
What consolation should be ours! Ah, this is the true healing of our wounds—the true balm of Gilead! It says to us, Fear not, weep not, mourn not, despond not; thou art beloved of thy God: what should disquiet thee, or render thee disconsolate? We might almost be led to
ask, Is it possible that we can ever have a sad spirit, or a heavy heart, or an aching head, or a shaded brow, seeing we are beloved of our God? It is the love of God to us that goes down into the very lowest depths of earthly sorrow. It carries light down with it into the deepest cell of woe. It brings us up out of our prison-house, and gives us beauty for ashes. It bears our burdens; it breaks our fetters; it dries our tears; it sweetens the wormwood of our bitterest farewells; it puts a new song into our mouth, even in our heaviest hours.
What strength should be ours! The thought, "We are beloved of our God," is full of invigoration to the soul. It nerves us for endurance; it strengthens us for labour; it animates us for conflict. When hard pressed by enemies, beset with temptations, and ready to give ground under Satan's fierce onset, we call to mind that we are "beloved of our God," and we return with fresh power and fearlessness to the struggle. Can a man "beloved of his God" be overcome?
What zeal should be ours! What should we not be willing to do, or to dare, or to endure, for one who has loved us with such a love! What boldness, what willingness to face hardships, what delight in making sacrifices, what eagerness in running in the way of holiness and service, should be seen in those who are "beloved of God!" Let us take this love with us continually, and we shall find far fewer difficulties in the way of duty; we shall grudge nothing, stumble at nothing, murmur at nothing—but press right onward, through light or through darkness—through calm or through tumult—through evil report or through good report.
What holiness should be ours! This love is holy love, and it is love for a holy purpose. It is the love of a holy being, and its influences must be most sanctifying. It loosens from the world. It destroys our relish for its pleasures. It lures us away from its vanities. It raises us above things seen. It purifies the soul. Oh, what a security, what a preservative against sin, and worldliness, and levity, is the realised love of God! Christ's friendship displaces all meaner friendships.
Fellowship with God, and walking with him in love, repels all fellowship that would come between us and him. All love has a power to mould us after the likeness of the object loving and beloved. The love of God has, above all others, this transforming, this assimilating virtue. It polishes off the angularities of character which presented the great features of unlikeness. It makes us seek completer resemblance to him, not allowing us to be satisfied unless we see the features of correspondence multiplying, and those of unlikeness diminishing day by day. It draws us closer to Him who loves, and cements the union in such a way that sin is felt to be a laceration of our very being, and every increase of nearness becomes of necessity an increase of holiness, and an advance in conformity to him who has given us this name of honour—"Beloved of God."
"Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God! Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure" (1 John 3:1).
Amen, and Amen! Spirit of power and love! warm these cold hearts of ours with the love of the Father and the Son, making us to feel how true, how real, how satisfying, how unchanging, is that love. Spirit of power and love! make us able to comprehend its breadth and length, its depth and height, comforting and purifying us each day by the remembrance of it, and teaching us more fully the meaning of being "beloved of God."
CHAPTER VII
THE CONSOLATION OF THE AGES TO
COME
THE "Christ of God" is the "Consolation of Israel" (Luke 2:25). He was to be the great fountain-head of comfort to that broken-hearted nation;—himself at once the substance of the consolation and its dispenser. "I, even I, am he that comforteth you" (Luke 2:12). All that can cheer, and sustain, and heal, and gladden, is to be found in him. Must not even such woes as those uttered in the Book of "Lamentations" give way before the gracious words, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me"?
That which he was to be to Israel, he is as truly to the Church. Hence, writing to the Philippians, the apostle says, "If there be any consolation in Christ," meaning thereby, "since there is such abundant consolation in him." Not only does he give to God the name of "The God of consolation" (Rom. 15:5), but, referring specially to Christ, he says, "Our consolation, also aboundeth by Christ" (2 Cor. 1:5), and speaks of the "strong consolation" flowing from the gospel of Christ to the heirs of promise (Heb. 6:18). All this abundant consolation is for his saints. It is their "heritage for ever."
But the consolation is carried forward into the ages to come. It is as enduring as it is strong and abundant. "Now our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God, even our Father, who hath loved us and hath given us everlasting consolation and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts, and stablish you in every good word and work" (2 Thess. 2:16). It is "everlasting consolation" that we are thus put in possession of—consolation from the Father and from the Son. The connexion between the two parts of the above sentence is a peculiar one. The "everlasting consolation" referred to in the first part is made the ground on which we are to expect the present comfort mentioned in the second. The certainty of future comfort which we get when we receive the good news concerning him who is "the Consolation of Israel," is given as the reason why we may count upon all needed comfort here. It is as if the apostle had said, "He who hath so loved you as to put you in possession of consolation for eternity, will assuredly not deny you comfort now, but will supply your hearts abundantly with all that you need in present sorrow and darkness."
Man does not reason thus. He reasons from the present to the future, not from the future to the present; and chiefly on this ground, that he is sure of the present, but not sure of the future. But God, whose very object in sending his Son is to give us such a gospel as will, by the simple belief of it, make us sure of eternity, teaches us to reason from that eternity of which he thus makes us sure, to the present, of which we are doubtful. Our reception of the gospel placed us beyond the reach of doubt as to consolation hereafter, and the apostle would have us to infer from this the expectation of comfort here. Man would say, "Any measure of comfort you may get here you may take as a ground for anticipating consolation hereafter," reasoning from the present to the future,—taking for granted that the latter must be less certain than the former. God says, "As believers of my gospel, you are quite sure of consolation hereafter; trust me for comfort now, reasoning from the future to the present, and assuming that the former is more secure than the latter." And it was thus that the Lord taught his disciples to reason, when he said, "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom," reminding them that the heirship of the kingdom was their guarantee for everything else, and that to allow fear to possess them was to belie their title and their hope.
This promise of "everlasting consolation" does not imply grief hereafter, any more than "eternal redemption" intimates that there shall be sin. But the consolation for past sorrow, which begins when God wipes away all tears, is a consolation that will go on for ever. Each new day in the approaching eternity will help to make up for our years of discomfort here; and we shall have an everlasting equivalent of gladness for the bitterness that has been mingled in our earthly cup. Each new joy that is then poured in upon us shall be not merely something gladsome in itself, but a joy specially meant as a compensation for past suffering, and so may truly be called "consolation."
It is as if God held ever in mind our old days of grief on earth, and kept continually supplying us with new joys in order to meet these,
and obliterate them from our memories. He did not afflict us willingly. He spared us all the sorrow that he could. He never smote us once beyond what the bare necessity of the case required. And he shews this hereafter by the nature as well as the plentifulness of the consolation. As the Father who has been compelled to chastise his child, so yearns over it that, the moment that the necessity for the infliction is over, he redoubles his caresses, as if to make up for the pain which he had been constrained to inflict; so is it with God in administering this "everlasting consolation." Though he repents not of the chastisement, still he rejoices in the occasion afforded of not only giving compensation, but of giving what will be infinitely more than compensation; nay, of making each past chastisement an opportunity for augmenting the overflow of his love, and doubling his gifts to those on whom, so unwillingly, he was compelled to lay his rod of discipline.
Truly it is an eternal equivalent that he gives us, in bestowing the "everlasting consolation." And, as if in token of the joy with which he administers this to us, he takes to himself the name of the "God of Consolation"—nay, of "the God of all comfort" (2 Cor. 1:3).
What more, then, can we need for lifting up the hands which hang down, and strengthening the feeble knees in these our days of weakness, than the assurance of consolation so eternal and divine?
From a threefold fountain comes forth this river of consolation, which is to make us glad hereafter in the city of our God. Each of the persons in the Godhead is a Comforter. The Father comforts, for his name is, "The God of Consolation:" the Son comforts, for his name is, "The Consolation of Israel:" and especially the Holy Spirit comforts, for this is his special office, and of this we get the assurance in his very name—"The Comforter."
Nor will the consolations of the Spirit cease when we pass into the kingdom where all grief is at an end. He is the "eternal Spirit" (Heb. 9:14), and, as such, remains the Comforter for ever. True, he has
work to do on earth now, which he will not have to do hereafter. But his fellowship, as the Comforter, we shall enjoy throughout the ages to come. In the absence of Christ he comforted us, making us to rejoice and praise: what will he not do in the presence of that Christ, in whose absence he so faithfully tended and cheered us! In the absence of Christ, he took of the things concerning him and shewed them to us, making our hearts to burn within us: what will he not do, when in his eternal teachings he can point to the visible Saviour on the throne, and reveal all the wonders of his glory!
Surely the Holy Spirit's office and ministry are not exhausted in his service here, however precious and wonderful that service has been. He has more to teach us hereafter than he has taught us here; for, alas! how little have we been able to bear! Do we sufficiently realise this? Do we feel towards the Spirit as towards one whose instruction, and light, and fellowship, we are to enjoy in the ages to come, no less than now? He may seem more needful now, more absolutely indispensable; but is this really the case? Shall we not, though in a different way, need him in the everlasting kingdom as truly as we do now? His work assuredly is not done when he leads us into the promised rest. That is much; but there is more to come. We may be sure that a lifetime's instructions have not exhausted his fulness, nor finished his work, nor satisfied his office.
But when we are entirely pure, and all is pure around us, how shall we need the Spirit? Was not Christ altogether pure, and yet he had the Holy Spirit without measure? Nay, and in the day of his appearing and his kingdom, this is one of the things to which our attention is specially called; for it is of that period that the Psalmist speaks, when he says, "Therefore, O God, thy God hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows" (Ps. 45:7). If, then, the holy Son of God is to be thus eternally filled with the Spirit without measure, need we ask why we should have this Spirit hereafter? To be associated with Christ as vessels for the reception of the Holy Spirit, is to be one of the special honours and joys of the kingdom.
Blessed thought! We are not done with the Comforter when we reach the inheritance. We are not to part with him any more than with Christ throughout the ages to come. We are to know him as the eternal Comforter, and at his hands shall drink the cup of "everlasting consolation."
Everlasting consolation! Consolation that shall never be reversed or straitened, but shall spread itself out over the endless days of the kingdom! How cheering the thought, in our sad and lonely musings here! How soothing the truth, when life's fever tosses us, and perplexity besets us, and regret frets us, and disappointment wounds us, and bereavement lays us desolate!
Everlasting consolation!—how it swallaws up the sorrows of these brief hours, and makes them seem "but for a moment," as not worth the remembering or the naming! What is there here to make us shrink or hang the head, when the consummation is so blessed and so endless? Why murmur or be alarmed? Why lie in the dust and refuse to be comforted, as if sackcloth were to be our raiment for ever?
CHAPTER VIII
THE SERVICE OF THE AGES TO COME
THE Son hath made us free, and we are free indeed. We became acquainted with the truth, and the truth made us free (John 8:32). Our bondage was at an end: we were no more servants, but sons (Gal. 4:7); no more servants, but friends (John 15:15). But the ending of our bondage was the beginning of our service. We were set free that we might serve him whose service is liberty. No longer under the
law, but under grace, we went forth to do the will of our heavenly Master, and to find that obedience to that will was freedom. Not till then were the well-known words fully understood by us,—"O Lord, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thy handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds" (Ps. 116:16). By the loosing of our bonds we became his servants!
It was as the Son that Christ was the servant. So is it with us. Our sonship and our service go hand in hand. They began and they go on together. When we learned to say, "Abba, Father," we learned also to say, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?"
We do not serve in order to be delivered; but we are delivered in order that we may serve. "Being delivered out of the hands of our enemies, we serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of our life" (Luke 1:74, 75). The deliverance comes through the simple knowledge of the Deliverer, and his delivering work upon the cross. Before this, and without this, there could be no service at all. But being thus delivered, we joyfully enter the service of our Deliverer. Having tasted that the Lord is gracious, we take up the easy yoke of that gracious Lord. "Being made free from sin [that is, being justified], we become the servants of righteousness" (Rom. 6:18). "Having yielded our members servants to uncleanness, and to iniquity unto iniquity [i. e., to do the deeds of iniquity], we now yield our members servants to righteousness unto holiness" (i. e., to do the deeds of holiness, verse 19). "Nay, more," adds the apostle, "being made free [justified] from sin, and become servants unto God, we have our fruit unto holiness [i. e., the result is increase in holiness], and the end everlasting life" (verse 22).
The privilege of serving, then, is that into which we are introduced in being forgiven and adopted. Our reception of the grace is the foundation of our service. Hence the apostle writes,—"We then, receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let as have [hold fast] grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear" (Heb. 12:28). How service should be privilege—how the
place of service should be the place of honour—is a mystery to the men of this world, whose ideas of dignity are all connected, not with stooping, but with soaring and sitting on the high places of the earth. How we should be sons, yet servants,—kings, yet servants—is that which even we ourselves may sometimes wonder at. But what we know not now, we shall know hereafter. Our new life is one of service. We feel that we are servants—servants to the brethren, servants to them that are without, servants ever going forth to do the will of Him "whose we are, and whom we serve." Yes, servants and debtors! for the apostle uses both expressions, saying in one place, "I made myself servant unto all" (1 Cor. 9:19); and in another, "I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the barbarians, both to the wise and to the unwise" (Rom. 1:14).
The name of servant is one of honour. It was the Father's name for his beloved Son,—"Behold my servant" (Is. 42:1); and in him, as the true Obedient One, the great doer of his will, the Father delighted. It was Abraham's name,—"My servant Abraham" (Gen. 26:24). It was Moses' name,—"My servant Moses" (Num. 12:7); "Moses the servant of God" (1 Chron. 6:49). It was Job's name,—"My servant Job" (Job 1:8). It was Caleb's name (Num. 14:24). So was it the name of New Testament saints, applied to the apostles and to the brethren in the churches (Rev. 1:1; 7:3; Rom. 1:1; 16:1; Col. 4:12). Form first to last it is an honourable name. "Servant of God,"—who would not covet it! Who would not lift up his head with gladness at the thought that such a name was inscribed upon his forehead!
It was the "form of a servant" that the Son of God took upon him (Phil. 2:7). It was in lowly service that he delighted when here—"I am among you as he that serveth" (Luke 22:27). And it is to service such as this that he calls us—service to the Father, service to himself, service to the brethren, service to those "that are without."
As a description of this service and its rewards, he gives us the following statement:—"If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be: if any man serve me, him
will my Father honour" (John 11:26). Here we have the way of service —following Christ; our only true way of serving being that of walking in his footsteps—taking him for our model in service, as in everything else—making our service an imitation of his. The result of the service will be, that we shall be where Christ is. Following him, we shall arrive at the same end of our obedience, and be with him for ever. Nay more, the reward of our service shall be glory and honour. The Father himself will honour us even as he has honoured his true Servant—his own obedient Son. With honour such as this, from the Father himself, in prospect, should not our service here be faithful and willing? Should we not with good will be doing service as to the Lord, and not unto men? There is wide room for daily service, and many calls on every side. Let us lose sight of none; let us shrink from none. He who shrinks from giving service to the Lord in any particular work, on account of its difficulty, or painfulness, or costliness, or labour, is in that case preferring to serve self or the flesh—or it may be the Evil One. He cannot be wholly idle. A master he must have, and service he must perform. Let him turn away from all carnal service, and, whatever be the toil and cost, fearlessly present himself for service in whatever work the Master may have need of him.
God expects service of us. And how often is it to quicken our languor, and shame us out of our sloth or timidity, that he smites us with his sharp, penetrating rod! Often has affliction sent us to serve, and shewed us the sin of standing all the day idle when there is such a work to do. Up and serve me in the gospel of my Son, is God's message to some. Up and serve me in the diligence of labour for my Church, is his counsel to others. Up and serve me as a witness for my truth—a testifier against all error and gainsaying! Up and serve me in seeking to win back heedless wanderers to the fold! Up and serve me in the thousand little duties and offices of daily life!
But our service is not ended here. It passes on beyond this age into the ages to come. It is everlasting service. No doubt there are parts of service carried on here which cannot be transfused into the ages of