a-days, be obliged to suffer a violent death. He would be but too happy if he were. No. He must drag on with patience the remains of his existence, broken-hearted, despised, avoided, misunderstood. It is a serious matter, I do not say, to speak, but to be silent, when the probable, the inevitable consequences even of silence, are blighted prospects and alienated affections. But, whether he will bear this negative testimony to truth, and brave the moral martyrdom in store for him, is not a matter of taste. The alternative is inevitable. He must choose between this world and the next. For substantially the same is the trial of faith and integrity in every age of the world. The primitive Christians, the Prophets, the Patriarchs, each had to carry the cross of Christ, in whatever form it was laid upon them. And so have we. It is as true now as at the moment that our blessed Redeemer pronounced it, "He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is is not worthy of me' 'If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple "." 2 And what a choice are we compelled to make? between things temporal and things eternal. For, suppose, as our Saviour does in the text, that the worldly man could succeed to the utmost extravagance of his desires. Suppose that he could gain the whole world, (that which is the whole world to him,) and have nothing more to wish for, how long could he retain it? Naked must he return to the earth from whence he was taken, and leave behind him the lands, and treasures, and honours, and amusements, and applause, and pride, and luxury, or whatever else it be, for which he dared to put the truth and power of the Almighty to the test. Who will be the fool then? He who forsook all for Christ and for His 1 Matt. x. 37, 38. 2 Luke xiv. 26, 27. not be unselfish. He cannot even be honest for it is little matter in whose hands the prize he covets is placed. He must sacrifice principle, conviction, truth; it may be, honour and character; it may be even the welfare of the church of God itself. Is it pleasure? Pleasure intoxicates the soul. It banishes seriousness and recollection. It makes light of sin. It indisposes the mind to the obedience of Christ. Thus then, in whatever form the world seem most attractive to each of us,—whether it be the gratification of our pride, our curiosity, our vanity, our love of ease and selfindulgence, in that very precise form must the world be forsaken and renounced, or else we must be content to lose our souls. We cannot have both. We must decide between them. We must make up our minds to relinquish one or other. Put the love of this world into the most favourable light in which it can be placed. View it under such circumstances as the text seems more immediately to contemplate. Suppose the case of a man of virtue and amiability; a man respected by his fellow-citizens, and beloved by his own family. Suppose the case of one who has even enough of religious seriousness to justify us in saying, as our Redeemer said to the young man in the Gospel: "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God'." Suppose this man called in any way whatever to act on his own convictions. He finds that, if he fairly follow out the principles which his judgment and his better feelings approve, he will be obliged to act, or to speak, or, it may be, merely to avoid speaking or acting, on some particular occasion or other, the consequence of which will be the hazard, perhaps the certain loss, of property, of reputation, of peace, even of the affections of those who are dearer to him than life itself. He perceives, that if he speak the truth, if he act uprightly, he must calculate on being sneered at as a fool, by those who but yesterday regarded him as an oracle. He must reckon on being called peculiar, over-scrupulous, wrong-headed, obstinate, self-opinioned. He may not, now a-days, be obliged to suffer a violent death. He would be but too happy if he were. No. He must drag on with patience the remains of his existence, broken-hearted, despised, avoided, misunderstood. It is a serious matter, I do not say, to speak, but to be silent, when the probable, the inevitable. consequences even of silence, are blighted prospects and alienated affections. But, whether he will bear this negative testimony to truth, and brave the moral martyrdom in store for him, is not a matter of taste. The alternative is inevitable. He must choose between this world and the next. For substantially the same is the trial of faith and integrity in every age of the world. The primitive Christians, the Prophets, the Patriarchs, each had to carry the cross of Christ, in whatever form it was laid upon them. And so have we. It is as true now as at the moment that our blessed Re deemer pronounced it, "He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me. And he that taketh not his cross, and |