The Adopting Love of the Father

Chapter 5 THE ADOPTING LOVE OF THE FATHER

Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should he called the sons of God! therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not. 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 3:1-3

One object of the beloved disciple in the composition of this inspired essay, is to show and prove that a holy life ought to be the invariable result and accompaniment of a pure and orthodox creed. For the surest proof of being in God, is to be like God. They who hope for salvation from Christ's death, ought to be conformed to His life; and they who trust in His righteousness, are bound to obey His law. But such spiritual assimilation implies a previous, radical, and permanent change ― a change which is not self-produced, but is the result of divine influence. There lurks in the bosom of fallen and wrecked humanity no latent elasticity, by the operation of which man may recover himself to God and to goodness. Power not his own, power from on high, must therefore descend upon him, and transform him. This is the truth announced in the last verse of the preceding chapter, and in these words: If ye know that he is righteous, ye know that every one that doeth righteousness is born of him.' Genuine righteousness is the fruit of the second birth. Those who are thus born of God, own God for their Father ― the twice-born alone are his spiritual children, and among themselves ' all they are brethren.' But while the power which translates and renews them is so great, that power has been excited into action by infinite love. And now, as the apostle looked on the spiritual brotherhood, and saw them all to be begotten of one Father; as he remembered what they once were, and by what grace they had been rescued; and as he reflected on the character enjoyed by them, the blessings heaped upon them, the privileges possessed by them, and the destiny awaiting them; as these thoughts lay in his deep and susceptible heart, they prompted him to exclaim, in the first verse, 'Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.'

Such language is the expression of wonder and gratitude. And the point of the exclamation lies not in its reference to the mere fact of the Father's love, but to the ' manner' or kind of it. It is love of a peculiar species; unique in its nature, and unparalleled in its results. 'His ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts.' Behold what manner of love; yes, it is worthy of all admiration, and deserves to be ever contemplated and adored. "What then is its ' manner?'

Let us look, first, at the result or purpose of this love, and we shall be the better prepared to understand its 'manner.' If we know what it contemplates and what it has secured for us, then we shall rise to the recognition at once of its fervour and its strangeness. Now, the apostle says this affection has been lavished upon us, ' that we should be called the sons of God.' the indescribable honour of such an appellation ― to be called by the great Parent, His sons! This God-given name is an index to the reality, and is no ornamental epithet or appendage. Men of the Hebrew nation had often the name of God incorporated into their own, and a claim of divine descent was often boasted of by the heroes of classical antiquity. Thus, Isaiah is the ' salvation of Jehovah,' Jeremiah is ' exalted of Jehovah,' Daniel is 'judge appointed by God,' and Ezekiel is ' supported by God.' Thus, too, the idol Nebo is found in the royal name, Nebuchadnezzar; and Baal forms a part of such surnames as Jezebel, Hannibal, and Belshazzar. The common Moorish title, Abdallah, signifies 'servant of God.' This earnest desire to be named after the object of worship, springs out of universal religious instinct, and men have clung to the symbol after they had become strangers to the reality. But God's children are His in verity. The unnatural sin of their unfilial rebellion is blotted out, and they become sons by adoption. They had made themselves exiles from His family, but He brings them back, and the Spirit of their Father is bestowed upon them. So that, first of all, they bear His image, as the test and token of their sonship. The lineaments of His moral character are reflected in them. As the father lives again in the countenance of the child, so the likeness of God is communicated to His spiritual off-spring; and as by gazing on the son, you can tell the paternity, so the lustrous features of the inner man proclaim at once his heavenly origin. The sons are conformed to the image of Christ, and Christ is the 'brightness of the Father's glory,' and the ' express image of his person.' What a change, so profound and joyous ― 'Out of the family of Satan into the household of God. O, then, prove your descent, by exhibiting your likeness! Disguise not your lineage. Live, we entreat you, in the thought of being the sons of God, and act always under a sense of this high relationship. Never tarnish your dignity by ungodly pursuits. Let the sons of God be like Him. Let not the heir of the crown be found among the slaves of the mine. Be ye "the sons of God without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation.' What "manner" of love is this, in transforming those who were once so unlike Him, and who had so terribly provoked Him; and in clothing them, not with a dim and distant similitude, but with the ethereal dignity of His very image. The sons of God also possess His special love: ' Ye shall be my sons and daughters.' Love prompted Him to adopt them; and after they are adopted, He has peculiar delight in them. Being His children, they are His friends. His paternal arms are thrown around them. Angels are loved by Him with a single and a common love, but saints are loved by Him with a special and a double affection. The blood of His Son has been shed for them; they have cost Him much, and His heart has therefore a tender complacency in them. What ' manner' of love is this, that the fallen should at length have a place in His bosom which the unfallen can never occupy!

Still more, a glorious destiny awaits them ― a rich and noble legacy is secured for them: ' If children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ.' Fathers on earth sometimes leave their children a heritage of shame, and the shadow of the gallows looms over their cradle. But God has set apart an inheritance for us ― rich, substantial, and permanent. All that He is, and all that He has is ours; yes, all that God is, and all that God possesses is the heritage of His children: 'All things are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come; all are yours; and ye are Christ's.' When the years of minority are expired, the children are taken home to the household on high, where their filial likeness is perfectly developed, and their Father's love is fully enjoyed; where the whole family form one unbroken and vast assemblage ― heart knit to heart in the secure possession of their celestial patrimony. Can you now doubt that you 'should be called the sons of God?' You are not forgiven and kept at a distance ― are not constituted servants inferior and apart; but you are made sons. The confession of the prodigal was, ' I am no more worthy to be called thy son,' and his prayer was, 'make me as one of thy hired servants.' But the father at once reinstated him; calls him in the fulness of his joy ― 'my son;' puts on him a robe, which no slave durst assume, and covered his feet with sandals, which no menial could wear. There was love in pitying you, special love in redeeming you from the curse; but there is an unearthly 'manner' of love, in not only plucking you from danger, but in placing you in the near and dear relation of sons. It would have been unspeakable grace to have made you servants, and kept you in the outer court to obey Him as your Master; but it is past all thought and record, that you are children, and that you love Him as your Father ― bear His image, share in His tender affection, and are preparing for His glorious home. 'What manner of love' in this triple privilege; yea, God represents it as a problem, and as a matter of surprise to Himself: 'How shall I put thee among the children, and give thee the goodly heritage?' The extraordinary love of the Father is also seen in the entire circuit of discipline which has been arranged for His children. As they occasionally transgress, so are they chastened, but not in anger or 'hot displeasure.' When a parent punishes a beloved child, it is the highest effort of a self-denying love. God's genuine affection lifts up the rod, and he does not spare the rod, for He does not hate the child. Such a visitation is a proof of sonship. Will you not take it joyously, as the evidence of a Father's love, and as the means of preparing you for a Father's home? ' If ye be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and not sons.' And you possess, in fine, a blessed privilege in prayer. Your Father's ear is ever open, and His hand is ever full. You have but to unbosom yourselves before Him, and without reserve. ' Ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.' Your confidence in Him can never be misplaced. Children in the dawn of youth have perfect trust in their parents ― in their ability to supply every want, to grant every request, and to impart all needed information and assistance. Such tender faith only leaves them after repeated disappointments have taught them an opposite conclusion. But all wisdom is God's to direct you, all power His to defend you, and all goodness His to secure your felicity. And will not such a child be content in any circumstances? What is good for him His Father will give him. As much of temporal blessing will he get as he can improve. Nor does he need to possess the world in order to enjoy it. He can look around him on earth and say 'My Father made it all.' He spends his life in a habitation provided by parental skill and love. And were he always conscious of his sonship, what peace and confidence would he not feel in all conditions and at every moment. As if he said or sung ―

"Why should I stranger be
In my Father's dwelling,
While hill and river, rock and tree
Of His love are telling?
Always heard their simple voice,
Bidding childlike hearts rejoice,
Whispers me, this love is near;
What I hope in yonder sphere,
Love can find it now and here.
See how every tree and flower,
For a century or an hour,
Rests in one upholding power.
All their food to them is brought,
Nothing wanted, nothing sought;
Why should I, with anxious thought.
Mar the good my Father wrought ?"

Having now learned what God had in prospect, and how He has wrought it out; having seen that in making us His sons, the end and the process are alike marvellous and uncommon, ― we are now prepared the better to comprehend the singularity of the divine affection. And first, the love that leads a man to call a child his own, which is not by his natural descent, has not such a ' manner' about it. For when among men a child is adopted, it is usually because the adopter thinks it worthy of his regard; because there is something in its features or character that pleases him. He likes it and thinks it a likeable child, and so he takes it to his heart and home, gives it his own name, feeds it, clothes it, educates it, and prepares it for the duties of life. But no such motive could prompt the divine affection; for we were utterly lost and loathsome before Him. There was nothing about us, in our character or position, to attract the divine affection. All was unruly, defiant, and ungrateful. The pride of our apostasy bade us cry, 'Who is Lord over us?' 'Depart from us,' shouted we to the Almighty. The wonder is, that we were not consumed in wrath. For we were once in His family; but we scornfully left it, and in the pride of rebellious independence sought for ourselves another household. The door might have been righteously closed upon us for ever. But He welcomes us; aye. He takes us, disgraced and filthy as we are, to His bosom. He has loved us; and His love is like Himself. He has loved us, and in defiance of every repelling element. He has laid His gracious hand upon us, translated us into His family, and made us His sons. ' This is not the manner of men, Lord God.'

Again, if one adopts a child, it is commonly because himself is childless, or his hearth may have been desolated by war or disease. He longs to have some object near him on which to set his heart, and expend his instinctive attachment. But Jehovah had myriads of a flourishing progeny ― uncounted hosts of bright intelligences, who have never disobeyed Him. His heart rejoices over them; so numerous and so closely arranged are they around his throne, that in its reflected splendor they appear like moving and living clouds of radiance. It was not because His glory was unseen, or His praises were unsung, that He has loved us. There was no unsupplied craving in Him, which led Him to adopt us; for the ' many mansions' were crowded with a happy household. But yet He has loved us; and though He had so many children. He wishes to have more; nay. His heart is set on bringing ' many sons to glory.' What manner' of love is this; how noble and disinterested in its nature! How intense, too, in its warmth; for ere this adoption could be effected, the first-born among many brethren' must suffer and die. The Father gives up His only-begotten Son to agony and the cross, that the human slaves of Satan might receive the ' adoption of children.' Such love is in the manner of it above all conception and parallel, and has no shadow of itself among created attachments. Feeling, then, how He hath adopted you, and what blessings are implied in your adoption ― how, as His children, you are so like Him, and are so loved by Him; how you have the prospect of a blessed heritage, and are enjoying necessary and wholesome tuition and discipline during your present minority ― will you not be induced to cry out with the apostle of love, who revels in the idea of such love, 'Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God!' But the present condition of the sons of God is vailed and incomplete. ' Therefore,' the apostle adds, ' the world knoweth us not, because it knew Him not.' That is, the world did not recognise Christ; and on the very same principle, the world does not recognise those who are Christ's. The mission of the Son of God was spiritual. It was not in harmony with the vulgar expectation, and therefore the world did not and could not appreciate it. Had the Son of David come to confer earthly franchise and national independence; had He unfurled the banner of the Lion of Judah, and drawn. a sword to expel the hated and crushing usurper ― thousands would have flocked around Him with acclamations and hosannas, and proclaimed Him the hero and head of Israel. But His character and errand were very different, for He came to free men not by the sword, but by suffering, and to deliver them not from political vassalage, but from the kingdom of darkness. His enterprise was too ethereal for the coarse vision of the world to detect, or its sordid heart to admire. The world recognises and loves only what belongs to itself ― distinction in birth or rank, in arts or arms, in legislation or science, in poetry or architecture, in oratory or philosophy. Its great ones, and not its good ones, divide among themselves the world's homage. ' They are of the world, therefore the world loveth them.' Not that the world is able to ignore Christianity. But it admires it not for itself, but for its splendid results ― for the beneficial effects, in the form of patriotism and philanthropy., which it has produced. It is not Wilberforce the saint, but Wilberforce the queller of the slave trade, that men admire. Spiritual Christianity is as distasteful to the world as ever it was ― 'the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God.' The dignity and prospects of the sons of God are not of a secular and visible nature. ' The world knoweth them not.' Were they the scions of a royal house, or were their inheritance on earth, the world would very soon come to know them; but their Father is in heaven, and their dominion is with Him. They wear no mantle, with symbolic decorations, to attract attention; their pure robe is the righteousness of Christ, invisible to such as are strangers to the cross. But should this ignorance on the part of the world dispirit you? By no means. Your case is not solitary. It ' knew Him not' ― even Him it did not recognise as the Son of God. 'It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant that he be as his lord.' If the world did not know Him, though the glory of His Sonship so often flashed around Him, how can it be expected to know you, with your fewer and feebler tokens of relationship to God. Cicero says that if virtue were to descend to the world in a human shape, so enamored would men be of the spectacle, that they would foil down and worship it. And yet virtue did descend in a true humanity ― the incarnation of loveliness itself; and so far from doing homage to it, they nailed it, in the person of Jesus, to the accursed tree. ' Therefore the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not.' But it matters not. Were you to be tried by a jury of the world, and were your eternal destiny to depend upon their verdict, based on their knowledge of your filial dignity, then you might feel anxiety, and might use every means and embrace every opportunity to bring men into acquaintanceship with you. But your future welfare is in your Father's hands, and no member of His vast family is too mean to be overlooked, or too distant to be forgotten. He who ' counts the number of the stars, and names them every one,' has a perfect knowledge of all His children ― of the least and the lowest of them ― of the babes as well as of those of full age. The beggar that lay at the rich man's gate, feeding on the crumbs and waited on by the dogs, might die in solitude and neglect ― no friend might receive his parting sigh, or close his drooping eyes ― no stone would mark the spot of his unrecorded sepulcher; and yet the angels carried his spirit into Abraham's bosom, on which he lay a cherished guest at the heavenly banquet. Out of a world that did not know them the children shall all be assembled; for the eye of a Father is on them, the heart of a Father is with them, and the arm of a Father shall guide them home to His loved abode.

Verse 2, "Beloved, now are we the sons of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when be shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as be is.' Our sonship, we rejoice to be thus informed, is not a blessing awaiting us in some distant sphere of being. It is a present privilege: ' Now are we the sons of God.' Despite of this non-recognition on the part of the world, we are the sons of God. The reality of our adoption is not modified by the world's oblivion of it. It may be undiscovered by others, but our own experience gives ourselves the full assurance of it. So soon as faith springs up in the heart, are we reinstated in the family of God, cherished, protected, and sanctified ― enjoying the children's privileges, eating the children's bread, possessing the children's prerogatives, and being made meet for the children's home. But noble as is our present condition, our ultimate dignity surpasses conception. ' It doth not yet appear what we shall be.' It has not been revealed. It is matter of faith, and it is still wrapt in mystery. It may be questioned if human language has nerve and sinew enough to bear upon it a description of the 'for more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' It might be doubted, too, if we were qualified to comprehend it though it had been revealed ― if the words of such an oracle would not have been to us like the algebraic symbols of an unknown quantity. For our own present experience, blissful though it be, scarce lays a foundation for augury as to our future state. Even though we now revel in the divine favour, and are blessed with the divine image, though the joy of such a state does often make us mute from its very rapture, yet such transcendent felicity is scarcely a premise to reason from as to the glory of our ultimate heritage. We know, indeed, that in harmony with usual divine procedure, there is a necessary development. The acorn springs into a sapling ere it spreads out into an oak, and the infant passes through childhood and youth to the maturity of manhood. It may be a slow and invisible growth, but there is sure result. Look on the blade ― it doth not yet appear what it shall be, 'for it shoots into the ear,' and bends at length with the weight of the ' full corn in the ear.' "When Pharaoh's daughter opened the basket of bulrushes on the bank of the Nile, it did not then appear what that weeping babe should be ― the hero, legislator, and saint. We are not therefore to expect too much in the meantime. The apostle Paul, as he speaks of the children, and affirms that they are heirs, adds in the same spirit, ' If so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.' Suffering and depression are not incompatible with sonship, for the children are spiritually related to Him who was the 'Man of Sorrows.' There is so much about us that clogs and confines us ― so much that is sinful and oppressive ― so deep is the shadow that earth throws over the children of God, that any inference as to coming freedom and glory is all but an impossibility. Such being the present eclipse of our sonship, there is the less wonder that ' the world knoweth us not.' The Son of Mary ― a carpenter ― a man of sorrows ― poor and persecuted ― was not Himself, in such a disguise, seen to be the Son of God.

Yet there is a leading thought which the apostle presents as a guide, and by following it we may obtain some glimpse of future blessedness. It is as a central picture which stands out with peculiar prominence, and though we be not able to till up its entire outline, or throw over it the living lustre of eternity, yet may we argue and imagine from the portion unvailed as to the nobleness and splendor of what is concealed: 'We know that, when He shall appear, we shall he like Him; for we shall see Him as he is.' In this declaration Christ is not formally mentioned. It needed not. The apostle's readers could not mistake the reference. Only one Being could possess that peculiar excellence and position. 'When Christ shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see Him as he is.' This truth is an unshaken first principle on which all our conclusions are to be based.

Christ shall appear. This is the blessed hope of the church ― ' The appearing of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ.' He left the world with the promise of revisiting it. He has peculiar interest in it; the scenes of His nativity and suffering must have a special charm for Him. When He ascended, and the eleven were straining their aching eye-balls to obtain a glimpse of His lessening form, so fast disappearing among the clouds, the angels said to them, ' Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.' He shall appear in majesty: 'In his own glory, the glory of his Father, and in that of his holy angels.' That bright humanity shall outshine the sun, and supply its place to a startled world. For ' He shall appear' ― in the glory of His original Godhead, blended with the majesty of crowned Redeemer; arrayed in the regal apparel of Universal Governor; surrounded by a dense and innumerable retinue, and about to exercise His last and loftiest prerogative of judgment, ― then ― then ― ' shall we see Him as He is.' The inference is, that we have never yet seen Him as He is ― never beheld His unshaded splendor. We have been privileged only to gaze upon His portraiture, sketched indeed by the pencil of inspiration; yet a likeness, no matter how exactly limned and naturally coloured it may be, can never be compared with the living original. But we shall see Him face to face, without any intervention. Yes; that same Jesus who lived and died, who wept and conquered ― the Man-God, in His actual person ― 'as He is' ― the brightest and loveliest Being of the universe. Yes, as He is;' no semblance of Him, no cloudy phantom; but the Lord of glory before us, near us, as really as when He walked, and spoke, and lived among the houses and hamlets of Judea. For it is no dim glimpse we are to obtain ― no sudden coruscation to dazzle us, no partial view which shall only create a longing for a fuller inspection; but leisurely and at large ' we shall see Him as He is.' Who can tell the bliss or glory of such a vision? There is no being like Christ. In His mysterious constitution He combines divinity and humanity, and the highest glories of the universe sit in gracefulness upon Him. That crucified Man is now ' Lord of all;' and ' as He is' ― without veil shall we behold Him. He was seen of old in symbol, and at length was He beheld in flesh; but the symbol was dim in' its transparency, and the flesh hid in its mantle the splendours of His Godhead; but He shall now be revealed in the radiance of divinity, mingling with the brightness of a glorified humanity, and heightened by the imperial lustre of the 'great white throne.' On seeing Him, 'we shall be like Him.' The meaning is not that we shall be like Him, and therefore shall be qualified to see Him; but that when we see Him, completed likeness to Him shall be the result of the wonderful vision. If a partial and interrupted view of Him beget partial similitude on earth, the vision of ' Him as He is' will surely bring us into full and final conformity. In the same way as, by a discovery of modern science, the rays of the sun falling on your countenance transfer its features in an instant to a surface of metal or glass, so this vision of Jesus will at once communicate to His people His blessed and ineffaceable image. Only when He comes again do they wear their entire nature, so as to be capable of being universally like Him; for their bodies shall then have been raised, and they shall stand before Him in the fulness of their human constitution. And what pencil can sketch the features of this likeness! We can only speak vaguely about it. Blessed are they who shall wear it; and even they may be unable to describe it; aye, and the tongue of angels may not be stocked with a sufficiency of epithets.

There is no doubt, however, that we shall be like Christ in mind. Our knowledge is at present limited and confused. There are murky shadows which float over the intellect, and there are special forms of bias which delude and fascinate the heart. Our conceptions are unworthy of those noble objects about which they are formed; and if a blush may cover the cheek of the redeemed, it will be excited by the memory of those low and limited views of divine truth and glory which they occasionally cherished on earth. Even when we think of our Father; of His love, His power, and His glory; of His household, in its occupations; and of His home, in its immortal blessedness, ― our ideas are tainted with the earthliness of those human relationships on which they are based. But we shall rise above the relative into the region of the absolute and pure. Light direct from the throne shall pervade the mind, and, like the mists at sun-rise, all shadows shall fade away and disappear: ' Now we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face.' ' The new man,' put on by the believer, 'is renewed in knowledge, after the image of him who created him.' What lessons of sublimity may then be imparted; what large and unanticipated conceptions of the divine nature and works, and of the vast and far-reaching relations of the economy of grace! God shall be seen in everything, and everything seen in Him. We shall 'have the mind of Christ,' and shall find that all that philosophy has expounded, and all that the Bible has discovered are ' childish things,' and as such, are completely superseded. 'Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as I am known.' And we shall also be like Him in heart; for our spiritual nature shall be perfected. The last and loftiest attainments of holiness shall be reached. Love shall hold an undivided empire within us. What is foreign to our nature shall be taken out of it, and itself 'filled with all the fullness of God.' Whatever you venerate as holy or admire as good, shall be concentrated in the person of the glorified saint. Every grace in Christ's heart shall have a reflection of itself in the hearts of all His worshiping brethren. There shall be ' no more conscience of sin;' all its forms and all the evils it has brought shall be for ever done away. ' The glory of God' now seen in the face of his Son Jesus Christ,' shall then be seen also in the face of all the members of the household. The perfection of Christ shall distinguish every one of them; for they ' shall be satisfied, when they awake, with his likeness.' Who would not hope for this, and who would not willingly die in order to reach it? Such a perfected nature must also enjoy intimate fellowship with His Father and their Father, His God and their God. The children, as they see Him, and adore His glory, shall feel for ever as one with Him. Nothing shall be a barrier to their communion; for though the person of an angel should pass between them and the throne, it would cast no shadow upon them. Their happiness, too, will be unalloyed ― no pang can be felt, and no tear can ever fall. 'No one shall ever say, 'I am sick,' and the symbol of mourning shall never be seen on their robe; for the elder Brother ' has abolished death.' They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb, which is in the midst of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of water; and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.'

Ye wheels of nature, speed your course,
Ye mortal powers decay ―
Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day

And, lastly, we shall be like Him in physical constitution. The brightness of heaven does not oppress Him, nor shall it dazzle us. Our humanity dies, indeed, and is decomposed; but when He appears, it shall be raised and beautified, and fitted to dwell in a region which 'flesh and blood cannot inherit.' Man has been made to dwell on earth, and on no Other planet. If he is to spend a happy eternity in a distant sphere, his physical frame must be prepared for it. If he is to see God and yet live ― to serve Him in a world where there is no night and no sleep ― to worship Him in company with angels which have not the clog of an animal frame, and like them to adore with continuous anthem and without exhaustion ― then, surely, his nature must be changed, for otherwise it would soon be overpowered by such splendours, and would die of ecstasy amidst such enjoyments. The glory of heaven would speedily become a delicious agony. But here is the blessed promise ― The Lord Jesus shall change our vile bodies, and fashion them like unto his own glorious body'.' Therefore these bodies shall cease to be animal without ceasing to be human bodies, and they shall become ' spiritual' bodies ― etherealised vehicles for the pure spirit which shall be lodged within them. ' This corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.' And thus, in our entire nature, ' we shall be like Him' ― so like our illustrious Prototype, that none can mistake the family relation.

Now it is only when He shall appear that this universal conformity shall be enjoyed ― for then shall the bodies of His people be raised and fitted for heaven. Up to that period salvation is only partially enjoyed and by installments, but then total redemption is possessed. No wonder, then, that this epoch is held out to the church as the 'blessed hope' it is ' looking for.' And yet, strange to say, this period fills many minds with alarm. The ' last day' ― how terrible the time, how many sights and sounds to fill the spirit with consternation! Are we not to anticipate the dissolution of nature, the wreck of the elements, the ominous fires which no power can control, the sable blank of the departing heavens, the innumerable congregation summoned out of earth and ocean by the peal of the ' trump of God,' and the wicked calling on the mountains and hills to hide them from the wrath of the Lamb. But oh! we are too apt to forget the bright side of the picture ― that then, and not till then, shall we be like Him ― that then, and not till then, shall we see Him as He is, whatever view of Him our spirits in the meantime may have, and whatever likeness to Him in the interval they may possess. Even in heaven, and up to the second coming, happiness may consist as much in expectation as in positive enjoyment, so that His appearing is the hope of His church universal. But that hope is on earth no dull and passive emotion, for the apostle adds, as a practical conclusion ―

Verse 3, ' Every man that hath this hope in him, purifies himself, even as he is pure.' The words ' in him,' should be 'on Him' ― that is Christ. The apostle alludes to the basis of the hope ― Christ Himself. The hope of being like Christ rests on Christ Himself, and on His pledge to come again. And that hope incites to self-purification, and that self-purification, has for its perfect and lovely model, the example of Christ. ' He is pure' ― the incarnation of purity. His friends who knew him best, affirmed, 'in him was no sin.' He threw out this challenge to His enemies, ' Which of you convinceth me of sin? Of him whose delight it would have been to find a flaw, and who would have found it if he could. He said, 'The prince of this world Cometh, and findeth nothing in me.' The traitor, who would certainly have laid his conscience to rest if he had been able, cried out, as he cast from him the coveted wages of his treachery, 'I have sinned, I have betrayed the innocent blood.' And the voice from the ' excellent glory' crowned every attestation ― ' This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.' To the life of Christ, every child of God will always turn his eye. The more earnestly he looks, the more beauty he will find. Painters speak of making some work of the old masters their 'study.' Their meaning is, that they devote day after day to the inspection of the picture, and as they gaze upon it, beauty after beauty bursts upon their enraptured vision. Thus the sons of God must make the life of Jesus their study, and hold it up before them as the one model, till they understand it more fully, love it more cordially, and copy it with a closer uniformity. And it is the hope of ultimate success in this imitation that leads them now to make a vigorous, prolonged, and prayerful effort. Their aim is to be as like Him as they can be here, in the hope that they shall be perfectly like Him hereafter. ' Every man that hath this hope in him, purifieth himself.' Who would engage in this work, and for it pluck out his right eye or cut off his right arm, if he had not the hope or assurance that such self-denial and ' labour shall not be in vain in the Lord?' Wherefore, the coming of the Lord is vitally connected with our whole spiritual life; all our graces and feelings, as well as prospects, have it ever in view; so that, when He says, 'Behold, I come quickly,' the response, aye, and the welcome of our souls is, 'Amen. Even so come. Lord Jesus.' And now the main question is. Are we the sons of God? Does His Spirit so bear witness with our spirits? Are we able to say that we are in the divine family? Is it the language of your true experience, that you ' have received the adoption of children?' O do not deceive yourselves. I do not ask whether you have resolved to return, or have traveled back a portion of the journey, or have even come to the threshold; but, have you crossed that threshold, and are you really in the house? Be not contented with saying, We wish it were so, or we hope it is so. Ah! the wish may never be fulfilled, and the hope may never be realized. Many a one, with such a wish on his lips and such a hope in his heart, has lulled himself into eternal ruin. And O, remember that if you are not in God's family, 'ye are of your father the devil.' Will you not disown such a frightful paternity, and will you not shudder at its terrible destiny ― 'everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.' Delay not. We implore yon, in coming back; live no longer in such society, and with such empty enjoyments. The Father waits you; the whole house will he moved to greet you at your return. And if you be the sons of God, what love will you not cherish towards such a Father, and what obedience must you not render to all His commandments? Be 'obedient children, not fashioning yourselves according to your former lusts in your ignorance;' but ' prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.' He will not overtask you, and you will find highest happiness in filial devotion and service. 'Need we bid you love also the whole household of faith ― every one that bears your Father's image.

And, in conclusion, as long as you are here, feel that you are ' strangers and pilgrims.' ' This is not your rest,' your home is on high. When another and yet another of your brethren dies, be not alarmed, it is only his Father calling him home. When you think of your own mortality, ever regard it in this light ― as the child crossing the disturbed brook which separates him from home. And the elder Brother will guide you ― 'I will come again,' says He, ' and take you to myself.' Thus shall you reach your Father's house, and then shall you fully know 'what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon you, that you should be called the sons of God;' and then also shall you feel what it is to be like Him, when you shall have seen Him as He is. To Him, with the Father, and the ever-blessed Spirit, be glory and power, now and ever. Amen.