a nature and so insensible a temperament, that like the stoics of old, upon him sufferings and sorrow had lost their power? Far, very far from it. We have seen, even in this discourse, that he could feel most acutely, nay even weep, for the dangers of the thoughtless and the condemnation of the guilty; and did he who felt for all mankind, possess no feeling for himself? Doubtless he did feel, and feel most deeply; doubtless he was, in this sense, "moved" by the prospect of these bonds and afflictions, but he was not so moved as to hesitate for a moment in his onward course, to shrink back a a single footstep from the impending danger. He had within his breast a principle which no difficulty could daunt, no trials terrify,-that principle was a deep, a heartfelt an all-engrossing love of his Redeemer.

In comparison of that Redeemer, His ministry, His gospel, His honor, His

glory, the world and its delights, life and its attractions, were as light and evanescent as the motes which dance upon the sun-beam: for that Redeemer, as the apostle himself declares," he had suffered the loss of all things, and did count them but dung that he might win Christ:" and with that Redeemer he hoped to spend a glorious and a blessed eternity. We can, therefore, readily believe that "none of these things moved him;" his heart was calm amidst tumultuous motion, and while every wind which blew only drove him closer to the Rock of ages, every rising surge but lifted him the higher from the earth, and raised him the nearer, even upon the very waters of affliction themselves, to the heaven which awaited him.

My beloved brethren, you as well as he of whom we speak, have all a course to run; to some, probably a long and an arduous and a troublous one, many sorrows, many afflictions

abide you. To others, the sun may even now ride high in the heavens; and to not a few, the pale grey tints of evening may have set in.

this apostle, desire to

course with joy?" make the inquiry.

Do you, with "finish your

Surely I need not
You do desire it:

for I speak to those among you whose "faith hath made them the sons of God." To you it is the subject of many an anxious thought, of many a fervent prayer; in moments of solitude, of calm and quiet reflection, when the bustle of this busy world is thrown aside; in the silence of your chambers, in the sleepless hours of midnight, this aspiration often bursts from your lips, or arises unuttered in your heart, O, "that I might finish my course with joy!" that I might be able to look with a more perfect assurance upon a chamber of sickness and a bed of death.

Brethren, the one great principle of which I have spoken, the love of Christ,

is as powerful at the present moment as it was eighteen hundred years ago; do not disparage it by doubting its efficacy, or undervaluing its power. Be assured, if you possess it, it will do for you what it is daily doing for thousands, what it did for St. Paul: troubles, sorrows, trials, "none of these things shall move you," or loosen the anchor which you have cast within the veil; be of good courage, trusting implicitly to that all-sufficient Saviour, and living obediently in His fear and love, you shall "finish your course with joy;" it may not be, it probably will not be, amidst the raptures of a triumph, but it shall be with the peaceful composure of one who enjoys the fruits of a victory which his own right arm could not have purchased; you shall ere long be enabled to say, "thanks be to God, who hath given me the victory through my Lord Jesus Christ."

43

LECTURE III.

ACTS xx. 36, 37, 38.

AND WHEN HE HAD THUS SPOKEN, HE KNEELED DOWN AND PRAYED WITH THEM ALL. AND THEY ALL WEPT SORE, AND FELL ON PAUL'S NECK, AND KISSED HIM, SORROWING MOST OF ALL FOR THE WORDS WHICH HE SPAKE, THAT THEY SHOULD SEE HIS FACE NO MORE.

WE are in the present lecture to continue our remarks upon the parting address of St. Paul to the elders of the Ephesian church; an address so replete with affectionate feeling and sound and profitable Christian advice, that every word is dear to us, and every sentence worthy to be engraven upon our hearts.