October 4

eyes of all wait upon him; and he openeth his hand and satisfieth the desire of every living thing. Yet what is our earth compared with the immensity of space? And what is the aggregate of creatures adhering to this mole-hill globe to the inhabitants of all other regions in the universe? Yet all—every worm—and every world is from him, and by him all things consists.

And see the ease and efficiency of his agency: he upholdeth all things "by the word of his power." A man, however powerful, can do but little. A complication of concerns perplexes and bewilders him. The exertion of a few hours wearies and exhausts him. Impose upon him an increase of burden, and he founders and sinks. But "is any thing too hard for the Lord?" "If it be marvellous in your eyes, should it be marvellous in mine eyes, saith the Lord?" Rulers accomplish their wishes without moving; they can act by an order. The centurion was only an inferior officer, yet he could say to one of the soldiers under him, Go, and he went; to another, Come, and he came; and to his servant, Do this, and he did it. And he spake this in reference to the Lord Jesus with regard to a particular case, and to show his confidence in his powerfulness—that disorders come and go at his bidding. We read that "he sent his word and healed them," that is, he commanded the cure, and thereby produced it. "At my rebuke," says he, "I dry up the sea." "He rebuked," it is said, "the winds and the waves, and there was a great calm." With the same facility and majesty he made the world; "He spake and it was done, he commanded, and it stood fast." "He said, Let there be light, and there was light." So will it be hereafter with all the millions of the dead; "all that are in their graves shall hear his voice, and come forth." What difficulty, then, can lie in his way? Who art thou, O great mountain? before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain. It is only for him to speak, and the heathens shall cast their idols to the moles and to the bats, and Mahometanism shall perish, and the Jew look upon him whom he has pierced, and mourn, and the man of sin be destroyed, and in the churches of the faithful, every plant which our heavenly Father hath not planted shall be rooted up—And "he that sitteth upon the throne saith, Behold, I make all things new."

And is this spoken of him who lay in the manger and died upon the cross? Can he then be any thing less than "the Lord of life and glory," "in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the godhead bodily?"

It is this that displays and magnifies his condescension. His greatness was unsearchable, but he made himself of no reputation. Widows ministered to him of their substance. "Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich."

OCTOBER 4.—"Is this thy kindness to thy friend?" 2 Samuel 16:17.

THIS was the inquiry or complaint of Absalom, addressed to Hushai, because he went not with him. Let us transfer it to a nobler being, and apply it to a juster occasion.

Jesus sustains the character here expressed, towards all his people. He gives them numberless proofs of a friendship the most sincere,

VOL. II.

efficient, faithful, durable, and disinterested: he is "a friend, that sticketh closer than a brother." But they often act towards him in a manner very unbecoming the relation, and induce him to ask, "Is this thy kindness to thy friend?"

It will be allowed that we can never discharge the obligations we owe him. We must lie for ever under the burden; but the "burden is light." Nothing is more painful than to be obliged to an enemy; but we feel otherwise when favoured by a benefactor we much regard and esteem. If I could save myself; if I could renew, keep, and glorify myself, I would infinitely rather my Lord and Saviour accomplished it; as it would show his love for me, and his presence with me; and I should endlessly feel myself indebted to him, and say, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain. But though we cannot discharge our obligations, we ought to be sensible of them, and evince that we are willing to make him suitable returns, and, like the woman in the Gospel, to do what we can. Here, alas! he is often disappointed. He cannot indeed be disappointed as to fact, because his understanding is infinite; but he can be disappointed as to right. Surely he has a right to expect a certain kind of conduct from those he has so indulged; and not meeting with it he has surely reason to complain—and he does complain. "What more," says he, speaking of the Jewish church, "could have been done for my vineyard, and I have not done it? Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?" And speaking of the same people under the emblem of a fig tree, "These three years," says he, "I come seeking fruit, and find none."

Surely, as our friend, he has a right to expect that we should readily obey him. If ye love me, keep my commandments. He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me. And as none of these commandments are unreasonable or unprofitable, and as they afford expressions of our attachment to him, they ought not to be grievous. But have we never drawn back, or turned aside; or been partial, or reluctant in duty? Have we always asked, with Saul of Tarsus, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" or resolved with Samuel, "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth?"

Surely, as our friend, he has a right to expect that we should own him, speak well of his name, and recommend him to others. Have we sought his glory? Have we laboured to advance his cause in the world? Have we endeavoured to make him known and endeared in the circle of our own connections? Have we not in some companies blushed to have found out what we profess to believe? Have we not been ashamed of him and of his words? He, though passed into the heavens, is not ashamed to call us brethren: and shall we deny him before men?

Surely, as our friend, he has a right to expect that we should credit his word. We cannot offer a greater indignity to another than to disbelieve his declarations. The affront would be aggravated if he was a person remarkable for veracity, and we ourselves had always seen nothing in him but truth and faithfulness. But suppose he had added an oath, which ends all strife, to his promises? By disbelieving him then, we should charge him not only with falsehood but perjury. And is not this applicable to us? How

should we tremble at the nature and consequences of unbelief? Ah! my Lord, I hear thee saying, Is this thy kindness to thy friend? Yes; I have not only contradicted thee—I have not only given thee the he—but made thee to forswear thyself! and I cry out with tears, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

As our friend he expects that we should lay aside formality and reserve—that we should treat him with freedom and openness—that we should feel it not a task but a pleasure to come to his house—that we should never be afraid of offending him by the largeness of our applications, or wearying him by the frequency of our importunities. For he has commanded us to come boldly to the throne of grace; in every thing to make known our requests; to open our mouths wide; to ask and receive, that our joy may be full. But though we are not straitened in him, how straitened are we in ourselves! How cold, and distant, and suspicious, and fearful, often is our intercourse with him. How little do we honour him by our confidence!

As our friend he expects that we regard his connexions. "Is there any left of the house of Saul," said David, "that I may shew him kindness for Jonathan's sake?" Jesus has brethren and sisters on earth, who are afflicted and poor, and feel all the exigencies of life. But we may ask, "Since they are so nearly related to him, why does he permit their want and distress?" It is partly for our sakes. He deputes them to live among us, to receive the tokens of our attachment to himself. We cannot sigh for opportunities to testify our regard, by saying, "Oh, if he were in the world again as he once was, how would I minister unto him; how would I open my doors and entertain him"—For he is in the world. The poor we have always with us. What we do unto one of the least of these his brethren, we do it unto him.

As our friend, if he has left us a memento to recall him to our minds, he expects that we should prize and observe it. Have we ever closed the eyes of a much loved connexion, and have we in our possession a picture of him? How much do we value, and how often do we contemplate the inanimate shadow. But suppose the painting should represent him in the attitude of dying, and dying for us, while endeavouring to save us from fire, or water, or the stroke of the murderer—What is his own supper but such a likeness? Does it not show forth his death? Is he not before our eyes, evidently set forth crucified among us, and sacrificed for us? Do this, he said, in remembrance of me. And can we undervalue it? Can we neglect it? Neglect it constantly? Neglect it often? Is this thy kindness to thy friend?

Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Let us not be unwilling to receive the rebuke. It is indeed humbling; but he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.

Let us learn to demean ourselves towards him in future more properly. Let us watch and pray, lest we enter into temptation. Let us search and try our ways, and turn again unto the Lord. Let us look on him whom we have pierced, and mourn. Let us grieve that he is wounded in the house of his friends. Above all, let us grieve that we ourselves ever grieved his Holy Spirit. Indeed, if I am his, and in a proper state of mind, nothing will affect me like