moisture. But let us suppose a well or fountain in this desert, (and such things there are, though often many days' journey apart,) and what will be the aspect of the spot. If it be a well retaining all its waters within itself, and suffering none of its precious contents to escape beyond its own margin, yet will the ground about it, feel the blessing of its neighbourhood, and the tree tall and flourishing, the shrub fresh and green, and the grass thick and luxuriant, will render it beautifully conspicuous, amid the surrounding desolation. If it be a fountain which springeth up, a fountain whose supply is so abundant, that it breaks forth in little rills, so as to make its influence felt in distant spots, and in different directions, the change, of course, is still more remarkable, and still more pleasing. "The wilderness and the solitary place become glad, and the desert doth rejoice and blossom as the rose, the glory of Lebanon is given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon, for the parched ground hath become a pool, and thirsty land springs of water !"

And may not the heart of man, without any forced or fanciful application of the figure, be compared to one of these wildernesses? Is it not by nature as sterile? If there be in it, here and there, any spot less barren than the rest, any spot capable of producing some stunted shrub, or humble flower-some virtue or quality near akin to virtue, is not such produce speedily burnt up by the heat of this lust, or swept away by the violence of that passion? And may not the soul in such a state be said to gasp, as does a thirsty land, for aid? Suppose that aid supplied then and a fountain of divine grace opened in the heart, will not its influence be as active, and its effects as visible as in the case of the natural fountain? As there the presence of the fertilizing stream was declared by the freshness and verdure which marked its progress, so will this heavenly fountain "spring up," and show itself. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance'." And 1 Gal. v. 22, 23.

all these will be brought forth abundantly in the life of that man in whose heart the living waters dwell.

But while we are considering the aptness and propriety of the figure employed by our Lord when he speaks of the indwelling of his Spirit, as of a well of water; let us not forget the dangers to which those wells were subject. We have seen that the verdure which smiles beside the fountain of the desert, occupies a very small space, compared with the expanse of desolation which surrounds it. In the immediate vicinity of the little rill, the soil is firm and immoveable; it is held together by the roots and fibres of the trees it nourishes; by the clustering grass, and by bands of flowers. But immediately beyond this, all is loose and unreclaimed, a region of bare rock, or dry and arid sand. And oftentimes, a whirlwind will rush across these deserts, bearing the sand along in huge clouds, or dark dense columns, and pouring down a torrent "of powder and dust," as it is termed in Deuteronomy, upon every thing that

comes within its course. Such a visitation would be fatal to the well-springs, and therefore to guard against it, the mouths of the wells are carefully closed, and opened only at certain seasons. Thus when Jacob desired the people of Haran to water their sheep, they answered, we cannot until all the flocks be gathered together, and till they roll the stone from the well's mouth 1."

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And is not the well of water that is within us, exposed to danger closely resembling this? Is the whole heart of man ever thoroughly subdued by grace? Are there not always some dry, harsh, indomitable spots, upon which the dew of the divine blessing distils in vain? If so, there is always danger, lest some sudden whirlwind of passion should carry the pollution, and defilement, and desolation, of the natural barrenness, into those happier portions which have been redeemed by grace.

To avoid this peril, we must close up the entrance of our well. We must op

1 Gen. xxix. 8.

pose to the evil which threatens us, strong resolutions, unwearied watchfulness, and earnest prayer.

But these wells of the wilderness were open to another danger. The country in which they are found, was not unfrequently the seat of war: and then a retiring enemy might break down their defences and destroy them, or poison the water they contained. You must perceive at once, my brethren, that the well of life in our hearts is exposed to a similar peril. Are not our hearts the seat of war; of a warfare more deadly and more incessant than was ever waged in the outward world? Does not the flesh lust against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh? And has not the spirit one great adversary, the flesh one fatal ally, who is ever at hand to break down all the works of grace, or to poison the very fountain of them by some base alloy of earthly carnal appetite? And in this difficulty, and against this evil, what is our remedy? During the wanderings of the children of Israel in the wilderness;