her; the very stars are her watchers, and the firmament and the heaven of heavens are the gates that shut out her raging foes. When the Lord made the heavens and the earth, what was the drift of the whole thing? For what was the earth preparing in the old geologic past? Preparing, you tell me, for man. But why and wherefore was man made? God made the whole race of man, but in respect of that chosen life within the race, those elect men and women who are as the substance which is in the oak when it loses its leaves, the holy seed which is the substance of the race and of all time. And when man came into the earth and did multiply, and God divided the nations, and scattered them to the north and to the south, to the east and to the west, he divided the whole, looking to his people, seeing at one glance how it would be best for this empire to stand, or that monarchy to fall-how it would be more advantageous for that dynasty to exist through a whole stream of kings, or for that monarch to be cut off in his prime, ere his son should be born who should take the sceptre from the dying hand-I say that the whole machinery of nature, the whole work of God which he hath made, is intended to be the shell in which the Lord preserves his people, and there must come indeed-"The wreck of matter and the crash of worlds," and a total unloosing of the pillars of earth and heaven, ere ye can perish, O ye children of God!

But again, not only does nature, but providence, work for the protection of God's people. "All things work together for good to them that love God." Stupendous agencies are abroad. The wheels are so high that they are dreadful, but the wheels are full of eyes, and they only turn in such a way as shall preserve the Church of the living God. When we shall see the end from the beginning, we shall be in amazement as to how it was that everything turned upon the axle of the Church -how the greatest wheel turned on its pole to bring out the elect, to fetch up out of their spiritual darkness the generation who were afterwards to be enlightened; how the biggest wave that followed the keel of the Church's ship was ordained to wash it onward; and how the very wave which seemed to roll the other way, did but in some mystic manner still waft her onward to her desired haven; how storms and tempests, plagues and conflagrations, wars and bloodsheds, all co-worked to bring out the people of God, that the Lord's name might be glorified in them. Like some huge steam vessel, providence bears on the Church, and you must reverse those wheels which lash the sea of events to foam, before you can detain the Church from her haven. Yet further, not to detain you longer, the Church is constantly preserved, we know, by the ministry of angels. Unseen by us, the angels of God keep watch and ward around us. They bear up the Church's

foot lest she dash it against a stone. They cover her head in the day

of battle lest the fiery shafts should penetrate her helmet; by night and by day the watchers of God keep constant guard over the blood-royal of heaven. Let us not be deceived in this matter, thinking that we have to deal here with a fancy or a myth. Angels have more to do with this world than we dream. They are more potent influences for the saints' good than ever we have known, for they are the ten thousand chariots of God, the ten thousand times ten thousand saints of the Most High who stand in their battle array this day. If your eyes be opened, you will be able to say with the Prophet-" More are they that are with us than they that be with them." Reckon the angels as your friends; put them not down as though they were weak and feeble, but believe them to be strong, and then ye shall not doubt but that the Church shall be preserved as the apple of God's eye.

Then, last of all, God preserves his Church by the overruling of his grace. By a sort of holy alchemy he fetcheth gold out of dross, medicine out of poison, success out of disaster. From seeming evil still producing good, and better still, and better still, in infinite progression. So that the evil doings of the Church's enemies turn out for her good in the end, and their worst projects are in the wisdom of God but designs for her advancement. Let us rest in this, then, quite confident that by all means and by any means the Church shall always be safe. She rocks to-day; a big wave seemed to strain her timbers, but he who built her is on board; the eternal hand grasps the helm, and the Mighty One with unruffled brow looks at the storm and bids the ship cut through the foam. She has not turned as yet, though rocks and quicksands threatened to be in her path. Straight as a line, "as an arrow from a bow drawn by an archer strong," she sped on her splendid flight, and on she shall go though a thousand hells boiled over to stay her heavenordained mission. Yonder mighty billow, that seems ready to swallow her up and give her an eternal grave, shall break before her prow; and if she be for a moment buried in the spray, she shall either come up white from the washing, or she shall leap it, ascending up to heaven upon its crest; and if she goeth down again, as though she would descend into the depths of the sea-the depths of defeat and dismay-it shall be but to bring up some sinner from the depth, and save a soul that otherwise might have been lost. Oh, blessed be God, the Church is never insecure, nay, nor yet one of her children.

"Once in Christ, in Christ for ever,
Nothing from his love can sever."

"I know that safe with him remains,
Protected by his power,

What I've committed to his hand,
Till the decisive hour."

The apple of God's eye shall not be touched yet. We shall never see a blinded deity, and until then we shall never hear that the people of God have perished, and that the Church of Christ has been destroyed by her enemies. Courage, then, soldiers of Christ, courage! Turn not back through shame or fear. Another rush, another advance upon the foe, for ye cannot be wounded, ye are invulnerable; ye cannot be defeated, ye are invincible. God is in you, and ye must be almighty. He that toucheth you, toucheth the apple of his eye. Therefore dare, run risks, and venture for God, for you are always safe when you are venturing for him.

Our final question is, "Am I thus dear to God?" I would like you, now that I send you away, to ask yourselves that question. You, dear friends, up yonder, and you in this mighty tier, and you below, ask yourselves, "Am I thus dear to God?" Let each man and woman ask that question. How can I answer it? Is Christ dear to me? Then I am dear to God. Is Christ dear to me to-night; do I rest on him? If I do, I am saved, and if I do not, why should I not now? If I never have believed on him, why should I not now? If I trust him, he will save me. Lord, I trust thee. Can you say that from your heart? Then the Spirit of God has helped you to say it, and if to-night, poor soul, whoever thou mayest be, thou wilt repose simply and wholly upon the merit of Jesus' blood, and the power of his intercession in heaven, you are saved. Go your way, your sins are forgiven; you are accepted in the beloved, if you have trusted Christ. God help you to rely on Jesus now, and to his name be praise for ever and ever! Amen.

COMPASSION FOR THE MULTITUDE.

A Sermon

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JUNE 1ST, 1862, BY
REV. C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes. He said, Bring them hither to me."--Matthew xiv. 17, 18.

As was Christ, my brethren, when in this world, so are we also. Such, indeed, is our calling of God. As Jesus was "the true light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," so he saith to his disciples, "Ye are the light of the world." How memorable are those words of our Lord "As thou, Father, hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world!" And how weighty are those expressions of the Apostle-"We pray you in Christ's stead!"-" We then, as workers together with him!" There is something more than an interesting parallel that I want you to observe. A rich allegory appears to be couched in the simple record of the evangelists. The history of Christ is in type a history of his Church. A skilful reader would soon think this matter out. You will remember how Christ's Church was wrapped in swaddling bands at the first, how she was laid in the manger of obscurity, how her life was conspired against by heathen kings. You will remember her baptism of the Holy Ghost, her trials and her temptations in the wilderness. The life of Christ afterwards will soon be thought out by you as shadowing forth a picture of the career of the Church. There is scarcely any point in the entire history of Jesus, from the manger at Bethlehem to the garden of Gethsemane, which is not besides its personal narrative, a typical and pictorial history of his Church. Thus the Lord has been pleased to bequeath to his Church a great example written in his own holy life. As he raised the dead, so is she to do it through his Spirit that dwelleth in her. As he healed the sick, so is she to carry on a great healing ministry throughout the world. Or to come to our text, as Christ fed the hungry, so the Church wherever she meeteth with those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, is to bless them in the name of him who has said, "They shall be filled." Your business as a Church to-day, and my business as a member of the Church of Christ, is to feed hungry souls who are perishing for lack of knowledge with the bread of life. The case before us we think will

furnish a noble picture of our duty, of our mission, and of what we expect the Master to do for us that we may work mightily for him. Let us endeavour first to glance at the whole scene, collecting into harmony the accounts given by the four evangelists; and afterwards we shall proceed to consider two practical lessons to be deduced from it.

This miracle is recorded by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. There is some little divergence in each, as there naturally would be, for no four spectators could give the same description of any one scene; but what one omits another supplies; a point that will be most interesting to one, had failed to strike another, while a third has been interested in something which the fourth had altogether omitted. It appears that Christ had sought out a waste region near to the town of Bethsaida. Bethsaida was a place which he had frequently visited. Earnestly, on another occasion, did he warn Bethsaida and Chorazin, reminding them that their privileges would rise up in judgment against them to condemn them for their unbelief. He had sought out this waste place for the purpose of retirement, or for the sake of both himself and his disciples, that they might rest from their weary toils. The people follow him, they throng him all day long. He preaches to them the gospel, he heals their sick; and it was somewhere in the afternoon that the Master, ever patient and prescient of human wants, calls Philip to himself. Now, Philip was of Bethsaida, and he said to Philip, "Whence shall we buy bread that these may eat?" This he said to try him to see whether his faith was proof against misgiving. Had Philip been a wise disciple he would have replied, "Master, thou canst feed them." But he was a weak follower of the mighty Lord. You know he afterwards proved his ignorance by saying, "Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth;" and he then received a mild rebuke,"Have I been so long a time with you, and yet thou hast not known me?" On this, Philip shows that he has not yet learned the lesson of faith. He cannot believe in anything he cannot see with the eyes of sense. Puzzled and amazed, he betakes himself to his fellow disciples to talk over the matter. Now, Andrew suggests that there is a lad hard by that has five barley loaves and a few small fishes. Certainly, Andrew thinks though they will not be enough, it is our duty to do our best. So the loaves and fishes are purchased out of the scanty store that Judas handed out, not perhaps without some grief to his heart, that he should have to look so much after other people. As the day wears on, and the sun begins to set, the disciples come to the Master. Though the proposal had been suggested by him, they seem to think he has forgotten it. So they come to him and say, "Master, send the multitude away." They had thought over the problem of how to feed these people, and had come to this conclusion, that they could not do it. As they could not feed them, the next best thing would be to send them away to provide for themselves. Since they could not supply their necessities, they would endeavour to shut their eyes to their needs. "Master, send them away; let them go and buy for themselves." The Master promptly replies, "They need not depart: there is no necessity for it: give ye them to eat."" Indeed, he spake wisely. Why should hungry men depart from the householder, from him who feedeth all things, who openeth his hand, and satisfieth the desire of every living thing.