the morning of an endless day begins; and God, the Sun of that new world, rises in perfect beauty. The soul then recoils, with horror, from the objects of its former worship. It wonders at its past delusions. It asks itself, how it could have refused this happy and familiar intercourse with the King of heaven, that it might crouch beneath the footstool, or touch the hem of the garment, of some perishing mortal. It sees that it had been placing idols in the temple of the living God. It understands the meaning of these words; "I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God;" "and I will not give my glory to another."

No jealousy is so strong, as what arises from the consciousness of having highly benefited, and deeply loved, the object of that passion. But in applying this principle, to the relations in which God stands to us, no tongue of men or angels, could show forth all his praise, or recount those endless mercies, in the midst of which we live, and move, and have our being. Upon so vast a field, the mind is lost, and wanders through the boundless prospect, without the power of fixing its affections. anywhere. If we would appreciate God's claims upon the heart, we must narrow the circle. We must view his perfections, not as they are in themselves, or in the wide spread of their general bearings upon us, but as the Scriptures paint

them; clothed in circumstances, facts, and instances, wrought into the texture of real life, and standing forth, as it were, embodied to the mind.

To bring the principle we are now considering, into exhibition, let us contemplate our blessed Saviour, at that interesting moment which St. Luke describes, when he drew near to Jerusalem -when he beheld the city, and wept over it! What must have been, on this occasion, the associations of his infinite mind; the tide of recollections, which poured in upon his tender heart! It was he who had addressed himself to this people, in the language of my text, "I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God." His name was in all their records, and he had been a party in all their interests. He was the God of their fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the friend of Abraham, the fear of Isaac, the angel that redeemed Jacob from all evil. It was he that brought the children of Israel out of the land of Egypt, and out of the house of bondage. He had led them through the wilderness, as their directing star, by night, their sheltering cloud, and their defence, by day." In all their affliction, he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love, and in his pity, he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old." In

Jerusalem he recognised the favoured city, which he had chosen out of the whole earth, to place his name there; the residence of his peculiar people, the centre of the true religion, the sanctuary of the oracles of God. Before him lay, in one connected view, those palaces where he had been a sure refuge the gates of Zion, which he loved-the Temple which he had called his house of prayer, and where his glory had dwelt between the cherubim.

Add to these, our Saviour's human recollections. "Bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh," the blessed Jesus was alive and true to every pure and tender feeling of man's nature; and doubtless bare, upon his heart, many fond remembrances of Jerusalem. He called to mind those early years, in which one day in God's courts was better to him, than a thousand. His parents, we are told, went to Jerusalem, every year, to the feast of the passover. His pure and healthful soul was filled with gladness, when they said unto him, "Let us go into the house of the Lord;" when he "went to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday." That memorable occasion was, perhaps, peculiarly endeared to him, when, unable, as it were, to tear himself from the beloved spot, he tarried behind his parents at Jerusalem, and

was found in the midst of the doctors, astonishing all that heard him, by his understanding and answers. All those feelings which the Psalmist so beautifully describes, when he "longed, yea fainted, for the courts of the Lord," and when he "preferred Jerusalem above his chief joy,"-in these tender sentiments the incarnate Saviour sympathised, with all the peculiar, patriotic, and ardent attachment of a Jew. They were written, with the finger of God, upon his heart, and burst from him, in that torrent of grief, at which, if there be sorrow in heaven, the angels might have wept: "If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace!--but now they are hid from thine eyes."

But, my brethren, when Jesus wept thus, over the beloved city, he contemplated an event, just now at hand, in comparison of which, all his former mercies were but as the small dust of the balance. Nigh unto Jerusalem, his death was to be accomplished. The clouds were gathering, and all things were now preparing for that hour of darkness, when the Lamb of God was to offer himself, as the great sacrifice of atonement, upon the altar of the

cross.

The noble army of martyrs, and all the prophets, from the foundation of the world, whose blood was to be required of that generation, arose, by a natural association, to his view. They had

trod the dreadful path, before him: nor could his human weakness have failed to derive supplies of fortitude and patience, from the consideration, how they had borne their sufferings, and been carried through the fiery trial.

When we view our Saviour, under these affecting circumstances, and behold the Lord of glory, brought down to these the lowest depths of sorrow and of humiliation, for our sins; his claims upon our gratitude, and upon the entire affections of our heart, are, you will admit and feel, triumphantly made out. But if we would do full justice to these claims, we should take some instance, in which his humiliation is seen, in immediate contrast with the height of majesty, from which he descended. For this purpose, I have often thought it would be well, to take the Scriptures, and write down those passages, on the one hand, which record the high and enraptured praises, addressed to the Son of God, in heavenly places; and those, on the other hand, which detail the revilings and reproaches, which assailed him, in his earthly pilgrimage; and then to compare the two together, when placed in juxtaposition before our eyes. A few examples I shall quote. In Isaiah, the seraphim are represented, as covering their faces, and crying to him ; "Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." In the Revelation, the