April 23

diately into contact. There is "the Lord's day"—Do I love this; and can I call the Sabbath a delight? There is "the word of Christ"—Can I say, "Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and the rejoicing of my heart?" He has a house for his name—Can I say, "I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where thine honour dwelleth?" He has a seed to serve him—Do I pray, "Remember me with the favour thou bearest unto thy people." They are "the excellent of the earth"—Is all my delight in them? If I love him, I shall love every thing that is his.

The Second is to consider how our attachment to any other object affects us. If I love an object, I naturally, unavoidably, frequently, pleasantly, think of it. Can I love Christ and not have him much in my thoughts? If I love an object, I am led to speak of it: I cannot help referring to it, and recommending it: out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. What reason have I to conclude that I love Christ, unless he often enters my discourse; and I feel myself at home while talking of his glory? If I love a friend I shall desire nearness to him, and communion with him. And how can I love Christ, unless I mourn his absence, and long after intercourse with him, especially in his ordinances—"Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon?" If I love a benefactor, I shall inquire how I can make suitable returns for his kindness; I shall be afraid to grieve him; I shall be anxious to please him; I shall be willing to make sacrifices for his sake. Do I discover the same disposition towards Christ?

This yields a dreadful reflection with regard to some. They are those who do not love Christ—God is not their father. They are the children of the devil. And the lusts of their father they will do, and with him and his angels, and all who "cannot love," they will have their portion for ever—"If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha."

APRIL 23.—"Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all long-suffering, for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting."—1 Timothy 1:16.

THE Lord Jesus never acts without design; and his purposes are worthy of himself. When we consider its capacity and duration, the evils from which it is rescued, and the blessings to which it is advanced, the salvation of one soul is a work infinitely greater than the deliverance of a whole country from civil bondage; and therefore there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner than repenteth. Yet in the conversion of Saul of Tarsus his aim did not terminate in his salvation, all-important as it was. He looked far beyond, and intended that it should bear influentially on the recovery of others to the end of time.

And thus we see the greatness of his beneficence. Men wish to have their goodness known; but it is from self-love, and not from kindness. It is to gain applause, and not to excite and bring others to their door. And therefore they sometimes enjoin those they re-

lieve to say nothing of their bounty, not from humility but economy, lest applications should be too numerous. But the Lord Jesus knows his resources; and is not afraid of multiplied importunity. He wishes his favours to be known, that others may come and be relieved; for he delighteth in mercy.

How many principles are involved in the design here expressed.—The subjects of divine grace believe on him to life everlasting.—A succession of these believers will arise from age to age.—They will find it no easy thing to believe on him, and will feel their need of strong consolation.—Encouragement is necessary; for nothing can be done without hope and confidence.—The Saviour is concerned to furnish the relief.—And in doing this he produces actual examples of the freeness and fulness of his grace. Facts strike; they furnish us with sensible evidence. A debtor frankly forgiven an immense sum when going to prison, and having nothing to pay, shows forth most impressively the clemency of the creditor. The goodness of a prince appears in pardoning the greatest crimes against him. This indeed is rarely done among men. In all acts of grace some exceptions are made. The ring-leaders are excluded. Their impunity would seem a connivance at rebellion, and would endanger the safety and welfare of the state. But he saves sinners, says the Apostle, of whom I am chief. Here the ring-leader of the persecutors, who gave unity to their counsels, and stimulus to their zeal, is laid hold of, not to be punished but pardoned—laid hold of too for this purpose in the very act of rebellion and treason—and made a pattern of mercy to encourage others to trust in him.

We know what effect this kindness had upon himself. It changed his mind. It melted his heart. It softened the lion into a lamb. Behold, he prayeth—prayeth to him whom a moment before he had abhorred—"Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" And from that moment the love of Christ constrained him to live to him that died for him and rose again.

What effect has it upon us? Do we continue in sin that grace may abound? God forbid. "No man can quicken his own soul." We cannot change our own heart. The Bible is a sealed book till we are enlightened. It is useless for us to pray without the Spirit. If we belong to his people he will call us in due time"—This is the devil's reasoning; and it is not the better for employing the language of Scripture, or of perverted orthodoxy. And what a proof is it that we are not yet sensible of our lost condition—If we were we could not sit still, and thus argue or cavil. We should resemble a man who found himself in a house on fire—he must move—he could not avoid striving to escape, though at first perhaps not by the right passage. What a proof is it that we are not really desirous of salvation; else we should say, "I have read Paul's case. It meets my condition. I am unworthy; so was he. But he obtained mercy; and why should I be refused?"

This is the proper use of it—I see in this model his power and his compassion—I will go to his footstool, and cry, "Lord, save, I perish;" "God be merciful to me, a sinner."

It should equally encourage us with regard to others. Despondency chills our zeal, and prevents our efforts to save others. But why should we cease to pray, and use all the means within our