gap in the family circle when you are gone! What shall we do without you?" She immediately replied, "You are very closely entwined about my heart; but I have committed you all into the hands of Jesus. I am going home; meet me above." Almost her last connected words were,

"I the chief of sinners am,

But Jesus died for me!"

Afterwards she could only whisper, "Jesus, precious Jesus!" until her spirit took its flight to a higher and more blessed state of being. She slept in Jesus on February 17th, 1865, in the eightieth year of her age.

THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS.

(LUKE XVI. 19-31.)

THE wisdom and the resources of the Great Teacher are inexhaustible. In the numerous parables of Jesus we see His perfect apprehension of the conditions and relations of men, and His wonderful power of adapting His doctrine to every peculiarity of their case. This He exercises in a manner so exquisitely delicate and pointed, as to convey truth into the secret depths of their hearts, notwithstanding their most decided antagonism, and to reveal to them their actual condition, in spite of their self-deception. All who listened to Him felt, by turns, that He looked into their inner nature, and spake words of encouragement or judgment, as their case required. In this and the immediately preceding chapter, we have a succession of parables varied and striking in the highest degree, which we see no reason to suppose were not delivered in one continuous address, partially broken, it may be, by the interruptions of His hearers. Their internal character binds them together.

The seeking and accepting love of God were beautifully exhibited by our Lord; but it was necessary for all, publicans and Pharisees alike, to remember that their true filial relation to God must be maintained by the wisdom of their action in the relations of the present life. He clearly teaches that the sinner must repent or be punished, as we see in the cases, respectively, of the returning prodigal and the finally condemned rich man. But between these extremes, the Divine life of wisdom and love must appear. By faithfulness in r aðíką papova, "the unrighteous mammon," by its appropriation to works of love, a meetness for the "everlasting habitations" must be wrought out. The "mammon," which is made “unright

eous" by the perversion of its true destiny on the part of so many, must be converted into a friend, by the "prudence which uses the ἐλάχιστον, ἀλλότριον, ἄδικον, as the materials for the exhibition of fidelity, in order to lay up in eternity the reward of grace." The sought and found publican must not neglect to do this; and the self-deceived Pharisees are made to feel that they are guilty of this neglect. Their cloak of false piety is raised, and their intense covetousness is revealed. Therefore, ¿§εμvктýpisov avтóv," they derided Him," in their vain attempt to elude the conviction of their own consciences. But notwithstanding their ostentatious righteousness, their pretended fulfilment of the law, their evil hearts were known to God; and to pierce them more deeply, if possible, they are reminded of some of their violations of the law, which will bring upon them, if they repent not, an eternal retribution. While there is "joy in heaven" over the repentant, self-condemned publican, torment "in hell" awaits the incorrigibly "righteous" Pharisee, which the Divine Teacher proceeds to depict with dramatic vividness and power.

The design of the Saviour in this parable evidently is "to announce the great truth, that to neglect the application of wealth to benevolent purposes, is to make it a source of everlasting misery;" but this "great truth" is enforced by an impressive representation of the future conditions of men. The veil is withdrawn with a steady Hand, and we are allowed to behold the calm security of the saved, and the bitter anguish of the lost; while the reflections of the startled soul of the latter are given with a skill that makes them deeply affecting. It is only a superficial criticism that sees in this thrilling picture an inti mation that to possess earthly riches is in itself reprehensible, and that earthly poverty is necessarily meritorious. The fact that no particular statement is made of the sins of the "rich man," or of the virtues of the destitute sufferer, may be truly said to "enhance the beauty of the picture, and the deep seriousness of its moral." The whole " is clothed in the garment of Jewish eschatology," with the numerous additions which could only be given by Him whose eye looks into the secret counsels of God, and surveys the destinies of mankind. We have here, "in few but speaking touches, the great whole, the trilogy of Earth, Gehenna, and Paradise;" and the description is rendered more effective by the broadly-marked contrasts under which it is drawn. Around these extremes, in the present and in the future, we shall gather our exposition of this important parable.

Our attention is directed to the conditions of the subjects of the parable in this world, in verses 19-21. Here we observe that the one was rich, while the other was in the most abject poverty. “There was a certain," λovolos, "rich man." We dismiss the supposition that the Saviour here intended to paint from life the portrait of any particular

person, either Sadducee or Pharisee, living a Sadducean life. There were certainly many such; but it was beneath the dignity of the Divine-human Teacher to draw His illustrations from any individual character, and out of harmony with His spirit to pronounce the certain doom of a living man, or to dwell upon the miseries of an unhappy lost one. The riches of this man were his chief good. From them he derived his importance in his own estimation, and in that of those around him. Like many others, in our own age, he prided himself upon earthly possessions, and employed them to dignify and elevate himself. The fact of his stewardship was never allowed to obtain a place in his mind; he regarded himself as accountable for the use of his riches to no one but himself. The principles of benevolence, of love to man, which the Scriptures-that he no doubt outwardly held in the highest veneration-teach in so great variety of form, were never recognised by him as being of universal obligation. He never reflected upon the case of the sons of Abraham who were in poverty and distrees; never, seemingly, for a moment thought upon the vast amount of suffering that he might remove or alleviate, by the charitable distribution of his means, nor upon the wealth of enjoyment and reward which such distribution would bring back into his own heart. It is scarcely necessary for us to say that riches are a gift of God; and are designed by Him to be a blessing alike to their possessor, and to those who come within the range of his influence; a blessing to him in their loving dispensation, and to them in the grateful acceptance of them. Where this is recognised and acted upon, the heart, both of him who gives and him who receives, is made the better and happier by the mutual action: both feel themselves, as they could not otherwise have done, the children of one common Father. These acts of tender and fraternal consideration make the characters of men bud and blossom with every moral beauty, as the soft showers and genial suns of spring clothe the trees of the field with their rich and delicate verdure.

Incontrast to this rich man, "there was a certain," TTXòs," beggar named Lazarus." We cannot think that this case was presented merely as a foil to the other. It is an essential part of the picture, with. out which the final issues would be unexplained, and the moral of the whole unpointed. A name is given to this man. We do not suppose, however, that it is mentioned by Jesus "as the authentication of an actual incident." There was probably many a poor Lazarus in Jerusalem and its neighbourhood; but not one exactly answering to the Lazarus of our parable. His "name probably describes, by its double meaning, both the external appearance and the inner state of the man so named: before man he is helpless; and he is at the same time thrown before the gate of His mercy for God to help.” Emphatically, he is a "beggar," depending for the continuance of

his wretched life upon the casual generosity of others. To this condition he appears to be reduced in the very providence of God. His diseased state has deprived him of the power of self-help. He has literally no possessions: his destitution is complete. The Saviour does not abolish the distinction between rich and poor: however dark the enigma to us, its existence is compatible with the exercise of a beneficent and just providence. Poverty is one of the forms of trial to which men are subjected; and it is one often sufficiently painful to claim the commiseration of those who are not called to endure its bitter disadvantages. When borne in the spirit of childlike submission, it does not fail to secure, as our parable teaches, a peculiar blessedness: God hath "chosen the poor of this world" to be "rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love Him."

The rich man, we see also, was splendidly attired; while the man of poverty lacked the clothing which was necessary for the warmth and protection of his body. The adornment of his own person was, on the part of the former, one of the principal objects of his life. On this he freely expended his riches, robing himself in the most imposing and costly style. His outer garment was of brilliant purple, which appeared the richer by its contrast with the pure white of the "fine linen," over which it hung in graceful folds. This "fine linen" was an Egyptian product. The looms of Egypt had produced such a fabric from the days of Moses; and no doubt its texture and purity were of a rare description. Its value is indicated by the fact that it was sold for its weight in gold. Every other article of dress would, in the case of the "rich man," be in harmony with these costly robes; and gems and gold flashed their varied colours upon the admiring eyes that gazed upon him. The weakness of our nature not unfrequently finds its expression in costly apparel, which is productive of numerous evils. We do not hold that a uniform order of dress can be prescribed for all persons. Reference undoubtedly must be had to station, rank, and means; but in such cases great judgment is required, lest the style which rank imposes should be permitted to feed the natural pride of the heart. The modern disposition to imitate the appearance of superiors is the occasion of a much larger amount of mischief and misery than meets the eye of a general observer; and it needs to be repressed with a steady but firm hand. Those who are the victims of this disposition should be kindly reminded that they fail to command the attention to which they aspire, waste their humble resources, largely diminish their material comfort, imperil their moral character, and too often involve themselves in life-long difficulty.

At the other extreme is poor Lazarus. He was λkwμévos, “ full of sores," quite covered with them: "ulcers, which he cannot hide, were

his covering, his costly attire." In this forlorn condition, ¿ßéßλŋto, "he was laid," прòs Tòν #vλŵva, "at the gate," at the principal entrance, the colonnade of the rich man's palace. It is scarcely neces sary to suppose that he was carried there by others, who desired "thus to discharge themselves of their obligation, to pacify their consciences; nor that he was" cast down there, once for all," and remained day and night in that position. It is enough to suppose that either by a painful effort of his own, or the kindly assistance of others, he was daily placed where he might hope to obtain some scanty supply of his wants. "A rich man's portal was the constant resort of the destitute poor."

We have yet another point in the contrast. While the master of the lordly house made daily festival, Lazarus suffered the pangs of unalleviated hunger. The table, as well as the person, of the" rich man was amply furnished: "he fared sumptuously every day." Jubilant festivity reigned in his household, apparently without interruption. The banquet-hall was supplied with every requisite for the pleasure and satisfaction of himself and his guests. It was a display of convivial, if not of riotous, enjoyment. The terms employed by the Saviour cannot mean less than this; they may mean that he and his boon companions held the daily festival "of a rich voluptuary." In that case, it was the constant scene "of riotous living," which he possessed abundant means to maintain.

Meanwhile, Lazarus lay at the porch, witnessing this daily feasting, "desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from" the richly-supplied "table." It cannot be correct to say, "that in his pining hunger he longed in vain for a crumb." Offensive as his appearance must have been, he is allowed to lie at the porch. The gay owner does not give the command to have him removed out of his sight. Are we to interpret this in his favour, or against him? Some may be disposed to think that it indicates some degree of kindly feeling in the heart of the feaster. But a closer look discovers otherwise. By this very feature of the picture, the Great Teacher intended to shade more darkly the hard, indifferent heart of this self-absorbed man. He does not permit the sight of so unhappy a creature to disturb his enjoyment. "Nothing availed to carry trouble to the hard heart which was covered with purple and fine linen; warmed, indeed, with wine, but cold to all sympathy." Impelled by the pangs of nature, Lazarus is ever "desiring" to be, but never is actually," fed," though it is the vixiv, "crumbs," merely, for which he would be meekly thankful. His hunger is never positively removed. It is, at the most, only partially appeased by the scanty portion of the scraps, fallen from the sumptuous table, which he can succeed in appropriating when they are thrown out by the servants, who would not take the trouble of conveying them to the helpless