world needs, for the world's redemption.

The spirit of glory and of God is upon you,' said an apostle; and as our religion is understood and felt, it worketh mightily, and the wilderness, and the solitary place shall be made glad, and the desert rejoice, and blossom as the rose.'

The world celebrates, today, Christ's resurrection. Would that the world felt the full power of that resurrection! There was one, unschooled in adventitious forms, but grace was on his lips, and he moved in all the gentleness of love. Would that his vain adorers better knew the carpenter's son of Nazareth! That good shepherd would hear of no outcasts from his fold, and for its common good he laid down his life. He felt that he was himself a better temple to the Lord, than that which Solomon built, or that which Herod adorned. In him there was no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth.' He came into the world, and he loved the world, and he died for the world, and yet the while he was in heaven, and abode with the Father. His heart was ever with God. And he arose from the plished its glorious destiny.

dead.

Perfect humanity accom

Then were gathered the

We

first fruits of them that slept. From that darkness sprung up new light, from that grave a new life. are risen with Christ, therefore, to seek things which are above. To be of him, is to have the purity, refinement, elevation of soul which has been described. 'We walk in newness of life with Christ Jesus.' We have another world in prospect, but which blends har moniously with this, making the production of goodness and happiness the great end of both. Our im

mortality is not an alienation from earthly and social utility, but its best source and stimulus. If genuine Christians are separated by their elevation, it is that they may raise the rest. The first fruits do but harbinger the harvest. Not as an isolated dream, but as an all-pervading principle, may we cultivate that 'spiritual-mindedness which is life and peace.' So shall we rise with Christ from the grave of coldness, inertness, and corruption; and ascend with him to the heaven of light and love; that heaven which bends over all benignantly, and, in its elevation, is simple, ,majestic, universal, and everlasting.

SERMON XV.

SUBORNATION OF INSINCERITY.

2 JOHN 4.

I rejoiced greatly when I found of thy children walking in truth, as we have received a commandment from the Father.

Who does not profess to admire and love sincerity? It is the theme of universal eulogy, and very deservedly so, and in a certain sense very honestly so; for those who have no intention of practising it themselves, yet perceive that in many points it would be very convenient to them that it should be practised by others, and so it has their hearty recommendation. And yet with all this praise there is, perhaps, not another virtue with which society deals so harshly. We have heard of political virtues being expiated on the scaffold, but perfect sincerity would subject its possessor to a living martyrdom, which would endure from childhood to old age. As a Christian grace, certain is its crown of glory hereafter; but not less certain is its crown of thorns here. Its way to immortality is by a crucifixion. It is true, that notwithstanding these external inflictions, it may have internal sources of consolation and strength. That

is only saying that the wisdom of Providence may counteract the folly of man. It is no merit of theirs who hedge up the straight-forward path, and would, if they could, make the fence an insurmountable barrier: they are quite as culpable as if they were com pletely successful; and that culpability is not trifling. We have no slight responsibility in this matter. It ought to weigh heavily on a man's conscience, if he have been the cause of another's deviating from sincerity and frankness into the crooked ways of concealment and guile. When we pray that the kingdom of God may come, we mean that it should come in other's hearts as well as in our own: our duty is not to obstruct it anywhere. It is no justification of repressing a virtue in others that we practise it ourselves. If, for instance, we plume ourselves upon speaking out our own opinions, but do it in a manner so violent and overbearing that we drive others into the suppression of their honest convictions, it may be that we do as much harm by the fervor as benefit by the frankness. Our sincerity is not good, in so far as to another it becomes the stimulus to insincerity. It was often remarked, when attempts were making to rouse the sympathies of the people of this country in favor of the Greeks, that the character of their Turkish masters was one which might be regarded with much greater moral complacency; that the Turk was manly, open, truthful in his language, but the Greek cunning, deceptive, fraudulent. Now the same thing might be said of oppressors and slaves all over the world. Why should they practise acts of cunning who have nothing to apprehend, or resort to

fraud who can use force with impunity?

The vices

of slaves are generated by the condition of slavery. The frankness of the tyrant arises not from the love of truth, but froin a sense of power: he keeps down truth in his bondsmen; he is guilty in their degradation-for the cause of their insincerity is in his oppressions; and if it were not by oppression, but by bribery, by persuasion, by talking, by legislation, by influence, by church government, or in any other way, he would be guilty still. This is the evil against which I warn you. I am not now preaching against the practice of insincerity, but the promotion of insincerity. I wish you to heed the distinction. You may be very sincere, and yet do many things which tend to make those about you less sincere than they otherwise would be. There is a subornation of insincerity which is not less vicious than falsehood itself, inasmuch as it produces falsehood in others. There may be no such intention, perhaps a very opposite intention; but it is weak to talk of intention when the tendency of actions may be ascertained by reflection and exhibited in experience. 'I did not mean any harm,' is a contemptible apology for having occasioned mischief which reflection might have anticipated and precaution might have prevented. We are responsible, not only for the goodness of our intentions, but for the use of all the means in our power by which those intentions may be made wise as well as good, and their useful realization brought within the compass of a rational probability. Without such use, the plea is very pitiful, and the conduct very wrong.