like us to cherish; it foregoes no moral discrimination; it feels the crime, but feels it as a weak, tempted, and rescued creature should. It imitates the great Master, and looks with indignation upon the offender, and yet is grieved for him.

III. In the last place, I would set forth the intrinsic worth and greatness of this disposition as a reason for cherishing it. This rank does the virtue of compassion hold in the character of our Saviour.

How superior is the man of forbearance and gentleness to every other man in the collisions of society! He is the real conqueror; the conqueror of himself: but that is not all; he conquers others. There is no dominion in the social world like this. It is a dominion which makes not slaves, but freemen; which levies no tribute but of gratitude; whose only monuments are those of virtuous example.

No man may claim much merit merely for being indignant at the faults and sins of those around him. It is better than indifference, better than no feeling; but it is only the beginning and youth of virtue. The youthful, untutored, unsubdued mind is only angry with sin; and thinks it does well to be angry. But when more reflection comes, and a deeper consciousness of personal deficiencies, and a more entire subjection to the meek and compassionate spirit of Jesus Christ is wrought out in the mind, a new character begins to develop itself. Harsh words, borne upon the breath of a hasty temper, do not ruffle the soul as they once did. Reproof is received with meekness and in silence. The tongue is not ever ready, as if it were an instrument made to ward off reproach. The peace of the soul does not stand in the opinion of others. Faults

are estimated with forbearance. Mature and fixed virtue is too high and strong to think of building itself up, like a doubtful reputation, upon surrounding deficiencies. Sins are more immediately and habitually connected with the sufferings they must occasion; and therefore they more surely awaken pity. The man of advancing piety and virtue is growing in the conviction, indeed, that the only real, essential, immitigable evil is sin. He mourns over it in himself; he mourns over it in others. It is the root of bitterness in the field of life. It is the foe with which he is holding the long and often disheartening conflict. It is the cloud upon the face of nature. That cloud overspreads his neighbour with himself. And he pities from his inmost soul all who walk beneath it.

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Patience with the erring and offending is one of the loftiest of all the forms of character. Compassion for souls," though the phrase is often used in a cant and technical manner, ought to be a great and ennobling sentiment. Compassion, indeed, for souls-how should it transcend all other compassion! Look over the world and say, where are its sufferings? In the diseased body, in the broken limb, in the wounded and bruised organs of sense? In the desolate dwelling of poverty-in hunger, and cold, and nakedness? Yes, suffering is there; and Providence has put a tongue in every suffering member of the human frame to plead its cause. But enter into the soul-pass through these outworks, and enter the very seat of power, and what things are there-uttering no sound perhaps, breathing no complaint-but what things are there to move compassion? Wounded and bruised affections, blighted capacities, broken and defeated hopes, desolation,

solitariness, silence, sorrow, anguish, and sin, the cause and consummation of all the deepest miseries of an afflicted life. If the surgeon's knife should cut the very heart, it would hardly inflict a sharper pang than anger, envy, smiting shame, and avenging remorse. Yet happiness is near that heart; happiness, the breath of infinite goodness, the blessed voice of mercy, is all around it; and it is all madly shunned. Eternal happiness is offered to it, and it rejects the offer. It goes on, and on, through life, inwardly burthened, groaning in secret, bleeding, weltering in its passions; but it will not seek the true relief. Its wounds are without cause; its sufferings without recompense; its life without true comfort; and its end without hope. Compassion, indeed, for souls! who may not justly feel it for others and for his own?

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for

So Jesus looked upon the world-save that he had no compassion to feel for himself; and so much the more touching was his compassion for us. From the sublime height of his own immaculate purity he looked down upon a sinful, and degraded, and afflicted race. Weep not for me,” he said, “ "but weep So Jesus looked upon the world, and pitied it. He taught us, that we might be wise: he was poor that we might be rich; he suffered that we might be happy; he wept that we might rejoice; he died-he died the accursed death of the cross, that we might live-live for ever.

yourselves and your children."

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DISCOURSE XVII.

GOD'S LOVE, THE CHIEF RESTRAINT FROM SIN AND RESOURCE IN SORROW.

1 JOHN IV. 16. God is love.

It was a saying of Plato, that "the soul is mere darkness till it is illuminated with the knowledge of God." What Plato said of the soul is true of everything. Everything is dark till the light of God's perfection shines upon it. That "God is love," is the great central truth that gives brightness to every other truth. Not only the moral system, but nature, and the science of nature, would be dark without that truth. I am persuaded it might be shown, that it is the great, essential principle, which lies at the foundation of all interesting knowledge. It may not be always distinctly observed by the philosopher; but how could he proceed in those investigations that are leading him through all the labyrinths of nature, if it were not for the conviction secretly working within him, that all is right, that all is well! How could he have the heart to pursue his way, as he is penetrating into the mysteries, whether of rolling worlds or of vegetating atoms, if he felt that the system he was exploring was a system of boundless malevolence!

He would stand aghast and powerless at that thought. It would spread a shadow, darker than universal eclipse, over the splendour of heaven. It would endow every particle of earth with a principle of malignity, too awful for the hardiest philosophic scrutiny!

The scriptures assign the same pre-eminence to the doctrine of divine goodness which it holds in nature and philosophy. It is never said, in scripture, that God is greatness, or power, or knowledge; but, with a comprehensive and affecting emphasis, it is written that GOD IS LOVE; not that he is lovely, not that he is good, not that he is benevolent, merely-that would be too abstract for the great, vital, life- giving truth -but it is written, I repeat, that, God is love!

And it is not of this truth as an abstract truth, my friends, that I propose now to speak. I wish to consider chiefly its applications; and especially its applications to two great conditions of human life, to the conditions of temptation and sorrow. Affliction, we know, is sometimes addressed with worldly consolations, and sin is often assailed with denunciation and alarm; yet for both alike, and for all that makes up the mingled conflict and sorrow and hope of life, it seems to me that a deep and affectionate trust in the love of God is the only powerful, sustaining, and controlling principle.

Let me say again-an affectionate trust; the faith, in other words, that works by love. It is not a cold, speculative, theological faith, that can prepare us to meet the discipline of life. It is the confidence of love only that can carry us through. Love only can understand love. This only can enable us to say "we have known and believed the love that God hath to us."