BY REV. JOSEPH P. THOMPSON,

PASTOR OF THE BROADWAY TABERNACLE CHURCH, NEW-YORK.

THE BOW IN THE CLOUD.

"And above the firmament that was over their heads was the likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone and upon the likeness of the throne was the likeness as the appearance of a man above upon it. And I saw as the color of amber, as the appearance of fire round about within it, from the appearance of his loins even upward and from the appearance of his loins even downward, I saw as it were the appearance of fire; and it had brightness round about. As the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness round about. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it I fell down upon my face."-EZEKIEL i. 26-29.

THERE is but one scene in nature that approximates this sublime vision of the throne of God; and he who once has looked upon that scene will ever after feel the inspiration of these symbols of the prophet.

I stood at midnight upon the brink of Niagara. No human form was nigh; no voice or step of man was heard. There rolled the everlasting flood, thundering into the abyss that seemed to swallow it, yet left it undiminished in volume or in power. Dread symbol of eternity, without beginning, without end, rolling evermore upon its unseen axis, like that living wheel of emerald flashing with eyes, with wheel revolving within wheel," whose rings were so high that they were dreadful." There resounded evermore the thunder of that power that shakes both earth and heaven-a power that sweeps to instant destruction all that comes within its grasp. There yawned that dread abyss upon whose slippery brink trembled one poor mortal with the thought of utter impotence in this close proximity of death. Above all

stretched the firmament with its "terrible crystal," and upon its pavement of stars seemed to rest the sapphire throne. From the abyss there rose up a column towering to the sky, like the smoke of a furnace, the spray of that great agony of waters vainly seeking to regain the level they had lost. The voice of many waters, the voice of mighty thunderings, rolled the eternal anthem up to the throne of God. And yet I could not feel that such a God as nature here set forth was mine. I feel the awe of His power who sitteth above the floods; but should I step foot upon those floods they would sweep me to destruction. I seem to catch a glimmering of his eternity in this majestic plunge of unabated waters; but I am as a single drop of that flood, and plunging over, would vainly strive to regain the level I had lost. I look at the edge of the cataract-within a hand's breadth-and it is terrible. I look over into the abyss, and it is terrible. I hearken to the thunder of the fall, and it is terrible. I look upward to the crystal firmament, and that, too, is terrible. This God whom nature here offers me is the great and terrible God. This noise of great waters is the voice of the ALMIGHTY, and I hear in it no tone of love, no accent of mercy. That sapphire throne is the throne of Infinite Majesty; and I am but a poor, weak mortal, and cannot so much as look upon it. There is no way for me to rise above this chasm, above these floods, above these thunderings, to dwell with such a God. "Oh, give me Christ!" I cried-alone, aloud, upon the ear of midnight, above the roar of waters, the soul, awe-struck and terrified with a material Deity, or an almighty and eternal fate, cried, "Give me Christ, the God-man, the Creator stooping to the creature; power and majesty arrayed in love!" And suddenly upon that huge frightful column that seemed the smoke of the damned, by the rays of the full moon that then slanted athwart the flood and adown the abyss, there sprang from the depths of that abyss up even to the terrible crystal above my head, a luminous arch, as the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain. The prophet's vision burst upon me. In the brightness of that bow I saw the symbol of Christ, even as the Revelator of Patmos, when uplifted by the Spirit to the door that was opened into heaven, "beheld a throne set in heaven, and one that sat upon it, and he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone; and there was a rainbow round about the throne in sight like to an emerald."

Not as a mere ornament to the picture, filling up the back ground with its radiant glories, is this overarching bow introduced alike by those prophets of both dispensations who were privileged with the nearest insight into heaven;-this bow is the symbol of mercy, and in heaven it is associated with the likeness of the Son of man upon the throne. It is the symbol of Christ's administration of grace over the world.

Sweet majesty and awful love

Sit smiling on his brow:
And all the glorious ranks above
At humble distance bow.
Archangels sound his lofty praise
Through every heavenly street,
And lay their highest honors down
Submissive at his feet.

This is the Man, th' exalted Man,
Whom we, unseen, adore.

The crowning glory of heaven is, REDEEMING MERCY UPON THE THRONE. The bow the symbol of mercy; the man the symbol of redemption; the throne the symbol of divine majesty and sovereignty vested in Him who rules the world with truth and grace. Rightly to appreciate this conception of the power that is above us, let us compare it with the Transcendental or Pantheistic notion of God as an idea or an essence diffused through the universe, with the Materialistic notion of God as an eternal force or fate in nature, and with the Monotheistic notion of God as isolated both in personality and in sovereignty; and then analyze the elements of this picture of Redeeming Mercy on the throne:"The likeness as the appearance of a man above upon the throne, and round about a brightness as the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain."

I. The conception of the Deity formed by some is the idea of the Absolute, revealed in consciousness, and making itself objec tive through the material universe, or an invisible impersonal essence diffused through matter everywhere in space. This notion in one form is styled transcendental, in that it professes to have reached the a priori grounds of all knowledge, thereby transcending the ordinary processes of thought, and even establishing in consciousness the identity of the objective and the subjective; -a sounding phrase that seemeth lofty, grand, transcendent, by so much as it is obscure and vague;-just as sea-fogs on the most barren coast will shape themselves into distant mountains, castles, palaces and cities. God exists in the Intellectual Intuition of the human reason, so that "none can feel God, who shares not in the Godhead;" yet this ideal, like the eternal ideas of Plato, is bodied forth in the actual as the Moral Order of the world. "God exists in consciousness; subject and object are one;" and the human mind, as said Fichte, can "create God" by bringing him objectively into consciousness! The other form of this general conception is the pantheistic; which makes God a subtle essence diffused through nature and animating the universe as the soul animates the body. This places God literally in every thing and makes every thing a part of God. By this theory God is incarnate in a tree as really as in a man; he is incarnate in Christ only in a higher form of manifestation than in a mineral, a

plant, or an animal. In the one form of conception the rolling flood of Niagara is the eternal thought bodying itself forth in that majestic symbol; in the other it is not a mere symbol of the Deity, but a form in which the Deity is clothed; the motion of that ceaseless tide being the life and power of the indwelling essence of the Divinity. Both forms of this conception-the transcendental and the pantheistic-deprive God of personality. Their God in nature is not a personal being making manifest his existence and his attributes through the worlds that he has made and that he governs by his will; it is a thought, a principle, an essence, a law, dwelling in and animating the physical universe as the soul is in the body. But how can the soul of man, conscious of its own distinction from the body-for if consciousness teaches us anything, it teaches us that the soul is a distinct substance from the body in and through which it acts--how can the soul thus conscious of its own distinct spirituality and its personal identity, have any affinity with this eternal abstraction called Deity, or with this impersonal essence diffused in nature? How can the soul have toward such a God a feeling of responsibility, of affection, of confidence, of gratitude, of fellowship? This eternal thought, rolling from unseen depths in the past into the abyss of the future; this awful chasm that seems to swallow up everything and to give back nothing; this stupendous wheel revolving ever-more upon its unseen axis; this animated nature whose voice is the voice of many waters as they go leaping, spouting, foaming, flashing into the depths, and send back their everlasting thunders; what is all this to a soul whose affections reach after a Being greater than itself to lean upon, to trust, to love? What to me is that animated machine men call the universe? What to me is the soul they say is seated in it as a principle of life? What is it to me that I am a part of this machine, and feel in my own motions the stirring of this universal life? Instead of bringing me nigh to God, this destroys my personal identity as it takes away his personality, and makes me but one of myriads of spindles turned by the same stupendous wheel over which the eternal thought rolls on its flood forever and forever. I whirl as a spindle spinning my brief and brittle thread, but come no nearer to the wheel, and know nothing of it but its propelling power. Standing beside this mighty flood they tell me is or represents the Deity. see him not, I feel him not as mine; I cannot approach to Him: I can admire the emerald and sapphire hues that flash from this dread wheel of eternity, but I cannot grasp one glittering gem and call it mine; I look with awe upon the power that neither ages can exhaust nor rocks resist, but that power cares not for me. If I go one step nearer, it destroys me as an atom. I stand now in safety to look upon the flood; but once and again has it undermined this very rock, and it is undermining still. I have no pledge of safety; I quake with the thunderings from beneath; I

cannot mount to the heavens above; I cannot step upon that rolling pave of emerald; I stand here drenched and chilled with its spray; I may not advance; I dare not trust; I cannot love. Oh what to me is this animated universe, this transcendental pantheistic deity!

II. Others there are whose conception of the Deity is that of a material force or an eternal fate. As in the other view the element of thought and of self-diffusing essence is predominant, so here the element of law or will;-in the one form, materialism; in the other, fatalism; both equally remote from the conception of a personal being to admire, trust, and love. Yes, here is law, whether in material mechanism or in unchanging fate. Here is will fixed, absolute, energizing, invincible. But this is not a God in whom my soul can trust. If power be the one attribute of the Deity, then here is God as he is nowhere else in nature. What measure shall we find for this in anything that man controls? The steam-engine is man's mightiest achievement; the moving train his most expressive minister of power. Terrible, indeed, is that swift rushing force, with blaze and smoke and scream and roar, threatening with instant death whatever living thing may cross its path. And yet some fragment of rock or tree, some switch awry, or plank or rail upturned, some animal or vehicle upon the track, shall hurl to fragments this thundering, screaming messenger of death. A child may block its path and throw it into a heap of ruin. Or, if no accident befal it, how soon is its power spent when fuel and water are exhausted! But here is a power that no device of man and no catastrophe of nature can obstruct. Rocks cannot block its way nor trees deflect its current. These are but the sport of its waves. Steam is impotent against it. The vessel caught within its grasp, though it struggle, and pant, and drag, and hug the rocks, must go over into the abyss. This power, too, is never spent. You watch it till your eyes are weary, but it pauses not; you lie down to rest, but it moves on; you wake by night to hear its thunderings; you go forth at morning, and still it is there. Power, vast, measureless, irresistible, endless. It realizes to the mind the dread omnipotence of law; and the energy of a will that never falters and never tires. But such is not the conception of the Deity that brings support and comfort to the soul. If I conform to this law or keep without its range, if I bow to this will or put myself within the line of its behests, it will not harm me. But this mere negative feeling of immunity from danger will not satisfy the cravings of the soul. I am weak; will this law come to me to make me strong? I am sinful; will this law, this fate, this energy which in nature is irresistible, come to me and make me pure? I am mortal -I must die; will this law, this fate, this all-controlling power, come to raise me to life and immortality? I cannot worship na