June 4

of his office, the answer of his prayers, the reward of his labours, his best hire. Such a man has the spirit of his function; and among all his tribulations nothing comforts him like success in the conversion and edification of his hearers—he lives if they stand fast in the Lord.

But Barnabas, though a minister, had not been the means of producing the grace of God which he saw; yet he was glad when he saw it. Some cannot rejoice in the good done by others, especially by those who are not of their own community. They would confine the work of the Lord to the pale of their own denomination; and are grieved rather than pleased when they see another casting out devils in his name, because he walketh not with them. But a Barnabas can say, not only, "Let him alone," but, "Grace be with all them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." Let God employ and bless what instruments he pleases—Therein I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice.

JUNE 4.—"O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee."—Psalms 42:6.

AFFLICTIONS are often in the Scriptures called temptations and trials. The reason is, because they serve to prove and evince our principles, dispositions, and resources. It is natural, and almost unavoidable for men in difficulties and distresses, to repair to something that promises to afford deliverance, or at least to temper the bitterness of sorrow. And as every creature is insufficient to succour them, their applications are various and numerous, and none of them are available. Therefore, at last disappointed and confounded, they class the comforts with the crosses, and the good with the evil, and acknowledge, "all is vanity and vexation of spirit."

The believer has only one resource; but this is an adequate, and an infinite relief. And therefore instead of running up and down the earth, asking, "Who will show me any good?" he says, "Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee." It is not improper, as a brother is born for adversity, to go to a dear and valued connexion, and pouring our tears into his bosom, say, O my friend, my soul is cast down within me—But it is better for the eye to pour out tears unto God! Far better to look upward and say, with David, "O my God, my soul is cast down within me"—

David claims God as his God. And how desirable is it when we address him, especially in trouble, to be able to deal with him on the ground of assured interest in him. It is therefore promised: "I will bring the third part through the fire, and will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried: they shall call on my name, and I will hear them: I will say, It is my people: and they shall say, The Lord is my God."

Yet his claim does not hinder his complaint. Many are perplexed by what, if properly viewed, might rather encourage them. They exclaim, "If I am his, why am I thus?" Not considering that they are thus because they are his. They are pruned because they are vines; they are put into the furnace because they are gold; they are chastened because they are sons—for what son is he whom the

father chasteneth not? They think their depressions are peculiar—But David was a man after God's own heart, and had more experimental religion than any individual before the coming of Christ; yet he was not only afflicted, but his distress broke through to his mind, and pressed it down to the ground—"My soul is cast down within me." While all is calm and vigour within, the pressure of outward calamity is easily borne. The spirit of a man may sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?—and who can cure? Only the God of all grace, and the God of all comfort. Let us, therefore, go to him. He alone can alter the state and frame of our minds who has access to them, and dominion over them. When a watch is disordered, to have it examined and rectified we naturally take it to the maker, who knows all its powers and movements: so God is the former of our spirits, and he can set them right again—"Therefore," says David, "I will remember thee."

Such a resolution is not natural to us. God deserves indeed our remembrance, and is perpetually demanding it. He addresses us by his word; he speaks to us by conscience—but in vain. He endeavours to awaken our attention and regard by a profusion of benefits—but though the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib, we do not know, or consider. He therefore tries a different expediency—"I will go and return to my place till they acknowledge their offence and seek my face; in their affliction they will seek me early." What we refused to see and hear we are made to feel. His captivity led Manassch to pray to the God of his father. The famine made the prodigal think of his father's house. What brought so many to our Saviour in the days of his flesh but personal and relative trouble? It is the same now. He breaks up our earthly schemes, and then presents a better country to our pursuit. He removes the human arm on which we leaned, and then offering his own, says, "There—take hold of my strength." He hedges up our way with thorns, and makes a wall, that we cannot find our paths while following after our lovers; so that we have only one passage open—and this is to go back—and back we must return—if we would find him whom we had forsaken—for he remains where he was—and instead of rejecting us, cries, "Return, ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings."

And thus the same method which brings God to our remembrance at first is useful in our after religious life for the same purpose. For we are not already perfect. Our affections are sometimes chilled, and our minds are often turned away from our portion by other things. And there is peculiar danger of this in easy and prosperous circumstances. It is when our gourd flourishes, and we sit under its shadow with delight, that we are ready to say, "It is good for us to be here:" and so "to forget our resting-place." But God loves us too well to suffer us to take up with any thing short of himself. He does not stand in need of us; but he knows that without him we are miserable. He therefore brings us into conditions which show us the weakness and wretchedness of the creature; and induce us to inquire, "Where is God my maker that giveth songs in the night?" Then we think of him—And whom can we think of so properly and efficiently in the hour of distress? When therefore our souls are cast down within us, let us remember him. Let us remember his power. Is any