Life, neglecting the only Saviour. If you reject him to-day, you may never see him again till you see him in the clouds of heaven, and wail because of him.

Dear believers, remember how you pierced him; let bitter herbs sweeten your passover-let a bitter remembrance of past sin make Christ the more precious.

IV. A fountain is seen in a pierced Christ.

The first look to Christ makes the sinner mourn; the second look to Christ makes the sinner rejoice. When the soul looks first to Christ, he sees half of the truth, he sees the wrath of God against sin, that God is holy, and must avenge sin, that he can by no means clear the guilty, he sees that God's wrath is infinite. When he looks to Christ again, he sees the other half of the truth, the love of God to the lost, that God has provided a surety free to all. It is this that fills the soul with joy. Oh, it is strange, that the same object should break the heart and heal it! A look to Christ wounds, a look to Christ heals. Many, I fear, have only a half look at Christ, and this causes only grief. Many are slow of heart to believe all that is spoken concerning Jesus. They believe all except that he is free to them. They do not see this glorious truth, "That a crucified Jesus is free to every sinner in the world"-that Christ's all is free to all.

When the Spirit is teaching, he gives a full look at Christ, a look to him alone for righteousness. What does the sinner see? The wounds of Christ, a fountain for sin and for uncleanness. Oh, trembling sinners, come and get this look at Christ! come and see a fountain for sin and for uncleanness, opened on Calvary eighteen hundred years ago. "I cannot, for my sins are very great." Are you all sin and uncleanness, nothing but sin, a lump of sin? in your life, in your heart, are you one bundle of lusts? Here is a fountain opened for you; look to a pierced Christ, and weep; look to a pierced Christ, and be glad. "I cannot wash." To look is to wash. No sooner is the eye turned than the filthy garments fall.

says,

The fountain is opened up in this house of God to-day. At the very entrance to the tables, Jesus stands and "Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Are you willing? do you look to him alone for righteousness? Then, come thus washed to the Lord's table, in the very garment you shall wear in glory. Sit with your eye upon the fountain. Oh, prize it highly! What do you not owe to him who saves you from being cast away!

Some would go past the fountain to the table. Take heed, ungodly man! Will you dare to sit there with unpardoned sin upon you? will you venture to touch the bread, and your soul unwashed? Ah, you will bitterly Ah, you will bitterly rue it one day! Some, I trust,

will remember this day in glory; some, I fear, will remember this day in hell.

St Peter's, April 19, 1840.—(Action Sermon.)

SERMON LIX.

I SLEEP, BUT MY HEART WAKETH.

"I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night," &c.-Song v., 2, to the end.

66

THE passage I have read forms one of the dramatical songs of which this wonderful book is composed. The subject of it is a conversation between a forsaken and desolate wife and the daughters of Jerusalem. First of all, she relates to them how, through slothfulness, she had turned away her lord from the door. He had been absent on a journey from home, and did not return till night. Instead of anxiously sitting up for her husband, she had barred the door, and slothfully retired to rest: "I slept, but my heart was waking." In this half-sleeping, half-waking frame, she heard the voice of her beloved husband: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled; for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night." But sloth prevailed with her, and she would not open, but answered him with foolish excuses: "I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?"

2. She next tells them her grief and anxiety to find her lord. He tried the bolt of the door, but it was fastened. This wakened her thoroughly. She ran to the door and opened, but her beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone. She listened, she sought about the door; she called, but he gave no answer. She followed

him through the streets; but the watchmen found her, and smote her, and took away her veil; and now with the morning light she appears to the daughters of Jerusalem, and anxiously beseeches them to help her: "I charge you, if ye find him whom my soul loveth, that ye tell him that I am sick of love."

3. The daughters of Jerusalem, astonished at her extreme anxiety, ask: "What is thy beloved more than another beloved?" This gives opportunity to the desolate bride to enlarge on the perfections of her lord, which she does in a strain of the richest descriptiveness, the heart filling fuller and fuller as she proceeds. till she says: "This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O ye daughters of Jerusalem !" They seem to be entranced by the description, and are now as anxious as herself to join in the search

after this altogether lovely one. "Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside, that we may seek him with thee?"

Such is the simple narrative before us. But you will see at once that there is a deeper meaning beneath; that the narrative is only a beautiful transparent veil, through which every intelligent child of God may trace some of the most common experiences in the life of the believer. (1.) The desolate bride is the believing soul. (2.) The daughters of Jerusalem are fellow-believers. (3.) The watchmen are ministers. (4.) And the altogether lovely one is our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

I. Believers often miss opportunities of communion with Christ through slothfulness.

1. Observe, Christ is seeking believers.—It is true that Christ is seeking unconverted souls. He stretches out his hands all the day to a gainsaying and disobedient people; he is the Shepherd that seeks the lost sheep; but it is as true that he is seeking his own people also, that he may make his abode with them, that their joy may be full. Christ is not done with a soul when he has brought it to the forgiveness of sins. It is only then that he begins his regular visits to the soul. In the daily reading of the Word, Christ pays daily visits to sanctify the believing soul. In daily prayer, Christ reveals himself to his own in that other way than he doth to the world. In the house of God Christ comes in to his own, and says: "Peace be unto you!" And in the sacrament he makes himself known to them in the breaking of bread, and they cry out: "It is the Lord!" These are all trysting times, when the Saviour comes to visit his own.

2. Observe, Christ also knocks at the door of believers.-Even believers have got doors upon their hearts. You would think, perhaps, that when once Christ had found an entrance into a poor sinner's heart, he never would find difficulty in getting in any more. You would think that as Samson carried off the gates of Gaza, bar and all, so Christ would carry away all the gates and bars from believing hearts; but no, there is still a door on the heart, and Christ stands and knocks. He would fain be in. It is not his pleasure that we should sit lonely and desolate. He would fain come in to us, and sup with us, and we with him.

3. Observe, Christ speaks: "Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled." O what a meeting of tender words is here! all applied to a poor sinner who has believed in Christ. (1.) "My sister;" for you remember how Jesus stretched his hand towards his disciples, and said: "Behold my mother and my brethren;" for whosoever shall do the will of my Father, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother." (2.) "My love," for you know how he loved sinners, left heaven out of love, lived, died, rose again, out of love, for poor sinners; and when one

believes on him, he calls him "my love. (3.) "My dove;" for you know that when a sinner believes in Jesus, the holy dove-like Spirit is given him; so Jesus calls that soul "My dove." (4.) "My undefiled;" strangest name of all to give to a poor defiled sinner. But you remember how Jesus was holy, harmless, and undefiled. He was that in our stead; when a poor sinner believes in him, he is looked on as undefiled. Christ says: "My undefiled." Such are the winning words with which Christ desires to gain an entrance into the believer's heart. Oh, how strange that any heart could stand out against all this love!

4. Observe, Christ waits: "My head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night." Christ's patience with unconverted souls is very wonderful. Day after day he pleads with them: "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" Never did beggar stand longer at a rich man's gate, than Jesus, the almighty Saviour, stands at the gate of sinful worms. But his patience with his own is still more wonderful; they know his preciousness, and yet will not let him in; their sin is all the greater, and yet he waits to be gracious.

5. Believers are often slothful at these trysting times, and put the Saviour away with many vain excuses. (1.) The hour of daily devotion is a trysting hour with Christ, in which he seeks, and knocks, and speaks, and waits; and yet, dear believers, how often you are slothful and make vain excuses! You have something else to attend to, or you are set upon some worldly comfort, and you do not let the Saviour in. (2.) The Lord's table is the most famous trysting-place with Christ. It is then that believers hear him knocking, saying: "Open to me." How often is this opportunity lost through slothfulness, through want of stirring up the gift that is in us; through want of attention; through thoughts about worldly things; through unwillingness to take trouble about it!

"I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on?

I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?"

Doubtless, there are some children of God here, who did not find Christ last Sabbath-day at this table; who went away unrefreshed and uncomforted. See here the cause: it was your own slothfulness. Christ was knocking; but you would not let him in. Do not go about to blame God for it. Search your own heart, and you will find the true cause. Perhaps you came without deliberation, without self-examination and prayer, without duly stirring up faith. Perhaps you were thinking about your worldly gains and losses, and you missed the Saviour. Remember, then, the fault is yours, not Christ's. He was knocking; you would not let him in.

II. Believers in darkness cannot rest without Christ.

In the parable we find that, when the bride found her husband was gone, she did not return to her rest. Oh, no! her soul failed for his word. She listens, she seeks, she calls. She receives no answer. She asks the watchmen, but they wound her, and take away her veil; still she is not broken off from seeking. She sets the daughters of Jerusalem to seek along with her.

So is it with the believer. When the slothful believer is really awakened to feel that Christ has withdrawn himself, and is gone, he is slothful no longer. Believers remain at ease only so long as they flatter themselves that all is well; but if they are made sensible, by a fall into sin, or by a fresh discovery, of the wickededness of their heart, that Christ is away from them, they cannot rest. The world can rest quite well, even while they know that they are not in Christ. Satan lulls them into fatal repose. Not so the believer; he cannot rest. 1. He does all he can do himself. He listens, he seeks, he calls. The Bible is searched with fresh anxiety. The soul seeks and calls by prayer; yet often all in vain. He gets no answer, no sense of Christ's presence. 2. He comes to ministers-God's watchmen on the walls of Zion. They deal plainly and faithfully with the backslidden soul-take away the veil, and show him his sin. The soul is thus smitten and wounded, and without a covering; and yet it does not give over its search for Christ. A mere natural heart would fall away under this; not so the believer in darkness. 3. He applies to Christian friends and companions; bids them help him, and pray for him; "I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find him whom my soul loveth, tell him that I am sick of love."

Is there any of you, then, a believer in darkness, thus anxiously seeking Christ? You thought that you had really been a believer in Jesus; but you have fallen into sin and darkness, and all your evidences are overclouded. You are now anxiously seeking Christ. Your soul fails for his Word. You seek, you call, even though you get no answer. You do search the Bible, even though it is without comfort to you. You do pray, though you have no comfort in prayer, no confidence that you are heard. You ask counsel of his ministers, and when they deal plainly with you, you are not offended. They wound you, and take away the veil from you. They tell you not to rely on any past experiences, that they may have been delusive, they only increase your anxiety; still you follow hard after Christ. You seek the daughters of Jerusalem, them that are the people of Christ, and you tell them to pray for you.

Is this your case? As face answers to face, so do you see your own image here? Do you feel that you cannot rest out of Christ? then do not be too much cast down. This is no mark that you are not a believer, but the very reverse. Say:

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul?

Why art thou disquieted in me?