SERMON III.

THE SAINTS IN HEAVEN SUPERIOR TO THE ANGELS.

KNOW YE NOT THAT WE SHALL JUDGE ANGELS?-1 Cor. 6: 3.

In the preceding discourse, the sentiment deduced from the text and proposed for illustration, was, the superiority of saints to angels. A sketch of the history and character of angels proved that this superiority is not absolute and entire, extending to every feature of the constitution, but is rather limited to those particulars which are connected with the change from sin to holiness. The first point of superiority was stated to be, the consciousness which those who were elevated from earth to heaven might have of great advancement in their character and condition. This consideration was shown to be pertinent from the delight which the mind always takes in contemplating its own progress. In the glorified saints, the principle would be developed in several ways. They would rejoice in their dismemberment from the body, and in the clear views and enlarged capacities attained in their new and exalted nature. They would contrast their felicity with the pain and sorrow of earth, and regain the treasures which were once torn from them. Above all would they exult that they were now free from the captivity of sinthat the chains of that great master were at length broken— and while they joyed in the unimpeded exercise of present

piety, they would bow in sweet humility under the recollection of former sin. These are sources of enjoyment to which angels in the permanent elevation of their nature, and their eternal freedom from sorrow and guilt must be strangers.

We proceed now to another source of the superior enjoyment of the saints, and remark,

II. Christians in heaven will be superior to angels from the peculiarly interesting relation they sustain to Christ. Christ is the great central attraction of heaven. The author of the epistle to the Hebrews enters into an elaborate comparison between him and the angels. He shows that he has a more exalted name than they, being elevated to the privileges of sonship and heirship. He sits upon a throne and wields a sceptre, while they are but the ministers of his will. The heavens and the earth are represented as the product of his divine workmanship-the finite and fading creatures of his infinite and eternal power. Above all, and most conclusively for his argument, does the apostle appeal to that ancient description of the majesty of his kingdom, where "a fire goeth before him to devour his enemies," there is a vision of lightnings and a trembling world, and the hills seem to "melt like wax," before the awe-inspiring presence of this king of kings. Then from the midst of these terrible manifestations, there comes forth the mandate, "Let all the angels of God worship him." But not only is he superior to angels, and the object of their homage; he is himself God. Mystery of mysteries-God and not God! And not only is he himself. Jehovah, but Jehovah descending from the throne of his deep invisible abstraction, and unveiling himself with peculiar beauty to the gaze. The eye that is fixed upon his loveliness needs no other light. The soul that dwells under the shadow of his mercy-seat can demand no better pavilion. And if there be distinction in rank among the various orders of heaven, will not those be the most princely, who are nearest to this royal head, who bear his mark upon their foreheads,

and carry about with them "the white stone on which his name is written."

There are many circumstances which seem to indicate, that saints in heaven will sustain a personal relation to Christ more intimate and interesting than that of angels. Their whole career preparatory to that elevation seems fitted to fix his image most endearingly upon their hearts, and to make him the great essential of their being. Those seasons on earth which are most imbued with the spirit of heaven, are distinguished for the preciousness and the nearness with which his person seems to be revealed. I appeal to some of you, whether in those moments of devotion, when the world has receded, and "whether in the body or out of the body you could not tell," the one clear vision on the eye of your soul has not been the face of your Redeemer. And again in the seasons of trial and affliction, when the sundering of earthly hopes fixed the grieved spirit on the ark of its eternal refuge, and, reminded of the loneliness of your pilgrimage here, you caught glimpses of "the city that is yet to come”. Was not the Lamb the chief light thereof, when exultingly you exclaimed, that "nothing should separate you from the love of Christ." If there is any one thing remarkable in the triumph of dying Christians, it is the almost invariable uniformity with which they express themselves concerning the Saviour. To them he seems arrayed in new beauty. Tired and exhausted they lean upon his arm. When they feel that the night is dark and the waters are deep, through the shades the light of his smile is discerned, and they hear his cheering voice even while all the waves are passing over them. Sometimes to those whom death meets suddenly, by the way side, on the ocean, though they thought not of their coming doom, yet the watchful and all-seeing Guardian seemed with prophetic beauty to appear to them, and awaken almost unconsciously those views and hopes which he was soon to reward with full fruition. I knew of one not long since who perished

thus unexpectedly. The last words heard from him were in the bloom of health, and the full flush of earthly promise. Yet the expression indicated that he was holding peculiar communion with his Saviour, and that he trusted himself with newly inspired faith to the care of his covenant Guide. The bible that floated ashore from the scene of his terrific death had marked as the theme of his recent meditation, the promise of the shepherd to support his chosen in the dark valley. Who could doubt that He who appeared to him to soothe his spirit for its approaching though unexpected conflict, not only stood by his side like a minister of mercy in suffering and anguish, but transported him to nearer and more blissful communion with himself in heaven.

But let us not rest merely on these prophetic indications. Let us again draw aside the veil, and look in upon the views and emotions of heaven. We shall find,

First, That Christians in heaven are permitted to contemplate Christ as their brother.

"Verily he took not on him the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham." On earth he sympathized with their sorrows and struggles, with their fruition he sympathizes now. In each reminiscence of the past, he has with them a fellow-feeling. Once he too found his aspiring nature pent up within the walls of a fleshly tabernacle. Once he too was the victim of disappointment and grief—submitting his sensitive nature to obloquy and abuse, wandering houseless and forsaken till "his head was filled with dew, and his locks with the drops of the night," groaning in spirit by the sepulchre of his companions and friends, and giving up the ghost with physical and mental tortures even more than man could conceive. Nor did he, spotless and pure though he was, escape the assaults of the great moral enemy. encountered sin as the great obstacle to his successful mission. It met him in the depraved and short-sighted views of his chosen, in the sneers and contempt of his enemies. In

He

the person of the adversary it followed his famished frame to the wilderness, it whispered to him the language of rebellion in the garden, it stood mocking his agonies upon the cross. In that last fearful moment, gathering all its strength and virulence, by some mysterious process, it weighed upon his soul as if himself had been the guilty, and left him to expire in despair. But now, like his beloved, the more exalted and glorious is he that he humbled himself so low. "The captain of our salvation is made perfect through sufferings." How intimate and how blissful must be the communion between this elder brother and the family of his saints. The robe he wears is like their own, though infinitely more resplendent. He no doubt appears in that glorified humanity, that spiritual corporeity which is the vesture of his saints. Such as it appeared on the mount of transfiguration-the sunlike visage, and the glistering raiment; such as it shone forth on the morning of the ascension, when a cloud envel oped his unutterable glory; such as John fainted before, when he "saw in the midst of the seven candlesticks one like unto the son of man," and "heard the voice as the sound of many waters." Far as the dialects of heaven exceed the impoverished epithets of earth, so far will that outward glory exceed our highest imagination. Angels will wonder and adore. In their intercourse with the saints we may conjecture that their exclamations in view of this ravishing beauty will be most delightful. How that form, such a one may say, attracts to itself the admiring gaze of heaven. "Fairer art thou than the children of men. Grace is poured into thy lips. God hath blessed thee forever." He is my brother, will be the reply. He was my chosen companion and guide, even when I saw him not. Ever he stood by my side, unfolding the picture of his spotless life, whispering the injunctions of his blessed gospel, beckoning to the participation of his own inheritance. What was then revealed only to the half-opened eye of the soul, has become the blessedness of full vision. I