SERMON III.

ACTS, XVI. 30.

66 SIRS, WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?"

THERE is this peculiarity in Christian truths, that while we find them so amply exhibited in historical illustrations taken from remote ages, there is still a living necessity for the same truths to be realized in the history of our own lives. Therefore "whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope."

There is a fact, however, of common occurrence, which almost amounts to a mystery, that, glowing as Gospel truths are in themselves, they can be listened to with the most unmoved indifference, and without any practical influence visible in the lives of the

hearers, unless there be that self-application which yields to their force, that immediate appropriation which realizes their comfort, and that sincerity of purpose which takes them for a commanding rule of action. Let us look into this fact, and it will open before us much of the working of what St. Paul calls the "natural man." We are well aware that though the first announcement of the Saviour was spoken of as "good tidings of great joy to all people; " yet we may be so indifferent to it as to perceive in it nothing of joy to ourselves. We can fancy that a gracious pardon must awaken the liveliest emotions in the breast of one under condemnation, and yet, in the forgiveness of sins, as proclaimed by the Gospel, we may discern nothing of a personal interest. We can picture the gladness which the rich glow of morning gives to the benighted traveller, and then transfer all the beauty of this figure to that beaming of life and immortality which illuminates the otherwise darkened pilgrimage of man through this world. But immortality may have been so long admitted as a clearly

revealed truth, and so much taken for granted as secure to ourselves, that the joys of eternal life, even the gladdening echoes of heaven which visit the earth, commonly die upon the hearing of men like strains in which they have no interest, and can perceive no charms.

All this, then, is explained when the Apostle says, "The natural man," the man without spiritualized feelings, and whose conceptions embrace only the things of this world, "receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." So that this must be received as a first and fixed principle, that in order to discern the beauties and applicability of the Gospel, we must view ourselves as spiritual beings, incased for a time in earthly bodies, and destined shortly to become the inhabitants of the world of spirits; and under this impression must we give ourselves up to the training and guiding influence of the Divine Spirit. It may readily be concluded that there must be a solid foundation for peace and superior happiness in the

forgiveness of sins: but the glowing vividness of this leading doctrine, its joyous privileges and life-giving power, cannot be perceived until we are fully alive to the fact that we are immortal beings, and become truly awake to the importance of the question which forms

our text.

The circumstances which appear to have called forth this question, in the case before us, confirm the general fact, that, hardened, or at least indifferent, as a man may become to his immortal interests, there is a responding consciousness of a future state, which is sure to speak out in something like this question, whenever the future world is forced upon our consideration, by outwardly alarming circumstances, or inwardly quiet thinking; and though the fears which the force of truth thus strikes out from slumbering guilt, like sparks from the smitten flint, be not always embodied in words, yet is there generally awakened in the mind a silent foreboding of a coming judgment; a settled conviction, that while in unpardoned guilt, we are not prepared for that judgment; and a long-lingering