retained all its original selfishness, uncharitable- | ruption of the one master-tie which bound hin ness, and unbelief, unsubdued. More especially to God, was followed by the enthronement of to boast of these feelings, as if they were allow-corrupt self, from which all social evil now flows. able and becoming, was to manifest an utter When restrained by education and circumstances, ignorance of the design and nature of the gospel, we do not see, we could not imagine the and could not fail to awaken suspicions, and to excesses to which selfishness impels; but when foster prejudices, unfavourable to it in the minds we observe it, as brought before us in this passof others. It was to lie against it, directly to age, indulging envy and fomenting strife, on the contradict it, to make it appear what it was not; ground that these are allowed by Christ, it is felt nay, to turn it into the instrument of hostility to be truly hideous. This indeed is to make the against itself. Saviour the minister of sin,-to make him, who came to die for sin, to sanction that to which he is infinitely opposed, and which his glorious work was intended to destroy.

The teachers to whom the apostle especially referred, supposed this course of conduct to be wise, a proof of superior knowledge and discernment, and adapted to spread the truth. But he forcibly describes its real character, representing it as the very opposite of that wisdom which comes from God, a wisdom like its infinite Author, pure, generous, condescending, involving the sacrifice and suppression of every selfish feeling, and subordinating all its schemes and arrangements to the advancement of spiritual truth, and the salvation of perishing men. On the contrary, the mingling of bitter envy and strife with the profession of faith in the gospel, or the exposition of its doctrines, was earthly. It savoured entirely of the policy of unrenewed men. It could not proceed from that love of the truth which is implanted in the soul by the Holy Spirit, and is one of the earliest evidences of his renovating power. It belongs to man as the slave of sin, grovelling in the dust, and unable to rise above it. It had no affinity to the seraphic purity of heaven, whose inhabitants live in an atmosphere of untainted spirituality and unruffled love. It was sensual. It gratified only the low sordid desires of the mind. It was devilish. It resembled the wisdom of those evil spirits who put forth their power only to injure and annoy, who, whatever plausible pretexts they may make use of, turn the hearts of those who are inslaved by them, into scenes of turbulence and disquietude. The devil has a pleasure in involving others in the same misery with himself. And so this wisdom aims at increasing, not mitigating or removing, misery. It delights in strife, as a mean of annoyance, a source of vexation, uneasiness, and pain. It does all this under the pretext of supporting the truth, and brings dishonour upon the truth by the instrumentality to which it degrades it.

How revolting the picture of the selfishness of our nature which is thus exhibited! The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is also enmity against man. At first man was all love; not merely the object of love to his Maker, but a fountain of love to all around him; but the dis

The apostle most justly adds, that envying and strife are the parents of confusion and all wickedness. Envying is placed in immediate connection with strife, as causing it. If the heart within were calm, the life without would be so also; but passion in the heart leads to disorder and violence in the life. Of all passions, envy is one of the most restless and insatiable; and if we observe the conduct of men in society with care, we shall perceive that a great proportion of the troubles and tumults of life arises from its indulgence. It makes its own victims most restless. The envious heart, of all hearts, is the most deeply disquieted. It finds matter for disquietude in every object, event, and scene. It invests all things with its own dark disfiguring colours. There is no limit to the wretchedness that flows from strife. Nor is there any limit to the crimes to which it prompts.

As no union can be more unseemly or flagrantly inconsistent than that of envy and strife with the profession of faith in the gospel, we should be careful to hold the truth in love. Let us check evil passions in their beginnings in the heart. Let us remember what the apostle James has so forcibly said, 'From whence come wars and fightings among you? Come they not hence, even of your lusts that war in your members?" If evil passions or selfish feelings are indulged, strife will follow, and strife, instead of advancing, will bring discredit upon, and hinder the truth. There is nothing more characteristic of Christianity than the love, deep and tender, which pervades it; and if we are really embued with its spirit, the desire to do good will prompt us in all cases rather to conciliate than to provoke, to soothe than to irritate. No doubt, it is good to be zealously affected in a good cause; but Christian zeal, though ardent, has no uncharitableness or bitterness in it. It is a noble, a magnanimous quality, as remote from the baseness of selfish feeling, as it is from its turbid violence.

SIXTEENTH DAY.-MORNING.

'Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not

law of God would thunder its condemnations in its ear, and lay its presumption in the dust.

Doth not behave itself unseemly. Humility puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, others, as well as from unnecessarily and unprevents it from encroaching on the claims of seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, It does not thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but ostentatiously obtruding its own. rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, be-blish a reputation for excellence which it does pretend to be what it is not, labouring to estalieveth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things,' 1 Cor. xiii. 4—7.

As a piece of moral painting, nothing can be finer than the portrait of charity drawn in these words. It has been well said by a distinguished critic, that 'it would be difficult to find a finer passage than this in the writings of Demosthenes himself.'

Charity suffereth long, and is kind. It is patient and forbearing. There may be great faults in others, but the truly charitable do not dwell upon them, or allow themselves to be irritated by them. There is a forbearance which springs from contempt rather than pity. The truly charitable, however, bear with others from kindness. They respect them as rational and accountable amidst all their faults and sins, have a lively interest in their welfare, and earnestly seek for opportunities to promote it. They bear with them not as an hardship, but as a duty, which a sense of the claims of others, and of their own unworthiness and obligations, renders agreeable.

It envieth not. It does not repine at the advantages which distinguish others, or covet the good things which they possess. It rather desires that the possessors of valuable blessings should enjoy and continue to possess them, not only as they are, but in more abundant measure. It wishes well to all men, not conventionally, but heartily; and its chief regret is, that men are not happier, as well as better, than they are.

not possess; and hence it is free from affectation, the source of so much that is offensive, trifling, and absurd. Over its deportment, there is spread the grace of true modesty.

Seeketh not her own. A brief expression, but most comprehensive in its import. It indicates that true charity is opposed to selfishness. There is an enlightened self-interest, no doubt, which it is our duty to attend to. But this is very different from that mean creeping selfishness which is ever intent on its own gains, and distinctions, and pleasures, without attending to the welfare of others, and carefully shunning whatever would injure it. The selfish live for themselves alone. But the charitable, while they seek their own true happiness, as in duty bound, seek it in connection with the good of others. They seek not their own, but the things of Jesus Christ.

Is not easily provoked. Charity is not easily roused to resentment or complaint. There is an anger which is without sin. But the truly charitable are slow, even to this. They are calm, patient, reluctant to take offence, averse to perceive matter of blame. Even when an action. seems unjust, they are disposed to give it the benefit of every palliation, and to wait that they may judge of it, in the cool and clear light of reason.

Thinketh no evil. It does not readily sit in strict judgment on the motives and actions of others; but rather endeavours to regard them in a favourable light. Even when injury has been done, it would ascribe it to inadvertence or haste, rather than deliberate purpose.

It vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Christian charity is based upon profound humility. It is a grace of the Spirit, who, in his mighty and gracious work, shows the sinner his true charac- Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the ter and state, in the view of the divine law. It truth. How often we find that the faults and sins regards itself, therefore, as vile, without a shadow of others are dwelt upon and exaggerated by men, of merit, without a syllable of title, and hon- as if in proportion as others failed, they themoured and blessed only in the privilege of its selves were excellent? But true charity is reliance on the merit of our Lord Jesus Christ. grieved by the sins of others. It feels as if perIt has no proud or flattering things to say sonally wounded by the tale of their imprudence of itself. In the comparison of itself with what it and guilt. It has no pleasure in hearing of the ought to be, it loses sight of every thing by which faults of men. On the contrary, it rejoices in it may be distinguished from others, and cannot the contemplation of their virtues. It loves allow itself to dwell with complacent approba- moral excellence as beautiful in itself, as agreeable tion, even on its best deeds. It is conscious of to the infinite mind of God, as, in the believer, no really good deeds; and were it to boast of itself a proof of the efficacy of grace, and as inseparbefore others, it would feel that the unalterable ably identified with the proper dignity and the

permanent happiness of our nature. The report indeed to be so much beyond the ordinary stanof a virtuous action is as good news.

Charity beareth all things. It does not readily take offence, or complain of injury, but would rather forget and conceal the unjust and violent conduct of others.

It believeth all things. Not that it is weakly credulous, or blind to palpable evidence, but that, wherever there is a probability in favour of others, it eagerly admits it. It requires strong evidence to convince it of what is unfavourable to them.

dard of excellence, among even generous and disinterested friends, that we regard it as an extreme case, altogether an exception to the general rule, which it were unreasonable to expect, and absurd to require. It certainly exhibits the very farthest point to which, in unnumbered cases, the love of friendship can go. The sacrifice of substance; the renunciation of home, kindred, country; the surrender of reputation, rank, privileges; bodily torture, self-mutilation, and penance in its severest forms; are all short of the laying down of life.—A

he gives up life, he has nothing more to give. Life includes all.

It hopeth all things. When the issues of a course of conduct look dark or doubtful, it anti-man might give up these, and yet live; but when cipates the best. When an action seems bad, it waits for an explanation, and clings to the expectation that, when given, it will dispel every shadow of doubt and suspicion.

It endureth all things. Though unjustly treated, it is unwilling to murmur. Even when persecuted, it is patient; even when calumniated, it is silent. In the words of a very beautiful paraphrase, it—

'Meekly suffers many a wrong,
Though sore with hardship press'd.'

When our Lord stated that the laying down of life was the strongest proof of love towards friends, he was referring to his own sacrifice as a proof of his love towards his disciples. In the verse immediately preceding, he says, 'this is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.' His love was unparalleled. There is no instance of love on record that can be said to approach it. It has circumstances peculiar to itself, which remove it beyond all comparison. Love between man and man, even when it leads to the sacrifice of life, is love between equals; love founded on the perception of excellence in its object; love cherished and and a course of endearing communion; love whose strengthened by acts of sympathy and kindness, offices are repaid in kind. But the love of Christ was love on the part of one infinitely exalted above those whom he loved; of one who was independent, and needed no return of love from others to complete his happiness; of one whose nature was infinite, and whose resources were inex

LOVE to their fellow-creatures has at times led men to make astonishing sacrifices. But the greatest sacrifice of all is life. A man will part with substance, raiment, office, home, kindred, that others may be benefitted, rescued from dan-haustible. Men are, in some measure, constituted ger, or restored to freedom; but when it comes to life, he pauses; for this is the sacrifice of all, that which is dearest, deepest, most precious. 'Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath, will he give for his life.'

The instance of Damon and Pythias is well known. When the former was condemned to death by the tyrant Dionysius, having obtained leave to go home and settle his affairs, the latter engaged to die in his stead, if he did not return in time. He returned when Pythias was about to suffer, and the tyrant, penetrated by the example of their friendship, remitted the punishment of Damon, so that both were preserved. There was an undoubted sublimity in the friendship of these two persons, a merging of selfish feeling and sordid consideration, and a measure of mutual confidence, which it is impossible not to admire. We feel it

for friendship, and require the support and consolation which it is fitted to yield. Like the vine, they are made to cling to, and to lean upɗn others; and left altogether to themselves, they də not expand into that fulness and tenderness of affection, without which they can never be said to reach their proper measure of enjoyment. But it was not so with the Son of God, who is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' 'Herein indeed is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us.'

In estimating the love of Christ to his disciples. it is most important to advert to the fact, that they are naturally not friends, but enemies. The friendship which subsists among men, is founded on mutual confidence and esteem. Hence friendship, in its more intense forms, has been poetically termed the mysterious cement of the soul.

We can

But in men naturally, the Saviour could behold | in his life. What he said to his disciples, while nothing to please or to attract. He is holy-they he tabernacled on earth, he says to all his people are impure. Sin is an abomination to him-it is in every age, Ye are my friends, if ye do whattheir delight. His happiness is spiritual-their soever I command you.' enjoyments are of the earth, earthy. not conceive a more complete opposition of natures. There is not merely difference, but enmity; and hence men are described in scripture as 'enemies to God in their hearts,'-disliking all that the Creator loves, and violating all that he commands.

This supplies a view of his love altogether astonishing. His love to them involves the strongest possible claims to their confidence and love; and as he is supreme, stands to them in the relation of Lord and King, the appropriate expression and evidence of their love is obedience to the laws which he proclaims. He requires this obedience at their hands. It arises out of the relations which he bears to his church. We can conceive of friendship between equals, in which there is no obligation to obey, though there will be a disposition to do whatever is likely to please, or make happy. This is the ordinary case of human friendship. The friendship, however, subsisting between Christ and his disciples is, as we have already said, not friendship between equals. It is friendship between a teacher and his scholars a lawgiver and his subjects-a sovereign and his dependents; and as such, there is involved in the very nature of that friendship on the part of those honoured, the most powerful obligation to learn with meekness, to obey with diligence, and to honour with profound and grateful reverence.

It is a decisive test of our being the friends of the Saviour, if we keep his commandments. It is impossible that we can be his friends, if we refuse to do any thing he requires from us. For why, and how are we his friends? Why, but because of his stupendous work in our behalf; and how, but by the renovating power of his Holy Spirit? Our friendship implies not only love and confidence, but intense gratitude and unreserved submission. Whatever Christ has said will therefore be sacred to us; whatever he has enjoined will be cheerfully, heartily done; whatever he has instituted will be carefully and reverentially observed. If his love be rightly apprehended and felt, it will overwhelm and constrain the soul. The utmost we can do will be regarded as a poor expression of the desire to please him, which we ought to cherish. Let no one imagine for a moment, then, that he is, or can be a friend of the Saviour, if his laws are not precious to his heart, and, in some measure, embodied

'I

SEVENTEENTH DAY.-MORNING.

am the Lord your God; walk in my statutes, and keep my judgments, and do them,' Ezek.

xx. 19.

THE relation which God bears to his people, is set forth in scripture by a rich variety of illustrations, borrowed from the wide fields of nature, art, and human life. He is a Sun, a Rock, a Fortress, a Shield, a King, a Guide, a Husband, a Father; while nothing can exceed the tenderness and endearment with which he is represented as dealing with, and addressing his people. All of these names, however, are lost in the immensity of the expression: 'I am your God.' The very perfections of the Godhead, infinite as they are, are, by this expression, pledged to the happiness and salvation of the believer. There is amazing condescension in this. For who is it, who thus addresses sinful men? It is the Almighty Creator, the supreme Governor, the Lawgiver and Judge of angels and men. He who has but to speak, and it is done; but to command, and all things stand fast. He needed not the love or the service of man, for our goodness extendeth not to him. He is eternally happy in himself, independent and unchangeable. Yet he declares himself, in these words, to be the property of his people, places himself on their side, undertakes the maintenance of their cause, and thereby surrounds them and their interests with the light and the protection of his incommunicable glory. It is impossible fully to estimate the dignity of the privilege which is thus conferred upon the members of the true church. They can call God theirs in no merely figurative or doubtful sense, but as a real Portion, as an omnipotent Guardian, as an unfailing Friend. Whatever they need, he will supply; averting ruinous evil, and overruling for good that which is inevitable; bestowing important privileges in discipline, and finally crowning his love by the completeness of their salvation in heaven. Well may they say in the darkest hour of trial, in the fiercest conflict of faith, 'Greater is he who is for us, than all they that are against us.' 'Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.'

This covenant relation, subsisting between God and believers, involves the most weighty obliga