St. John, xi. 16-"Take these things hence, make not my Father's house a house of merchandize." The prefacing remark, "It is written," points to some passage in the Jewish Scripture, and this is to be found in Isaiah lvi. 7"Mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people ;" and in Jeremiah vii. 11, "Is this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your eyes? behold, even I have seen it, saith the Lord."

The abuse was not new or uncommon; it had existed long previous; it had called forth, ages before the birth of Jesus, the censure of God, by the mouth of his holy prophets; but these were men, whose high functions they acknowledged with pride, however much they might be inclined to neglect the admonitions which they uttered. Who was their new reprover?-a person, who, in his whole life and conduct, was continu

ally wounding some and all of their favourite prejudices; who came with the most extraordinary pretensions; and, what must have been still more aggravating, apparently bore out these pretensions by the possession of powers as strange and wonderful; who put forth new rules of faith, striking at the heart of their ancient systems; who left no occasion unemployed of exposing their avarice, their fraud, and their hypocrisy: the language of reproof, little palatable at all times, must have been still less so on the lips of such a one. The Scriptures abound with rules of conduct to guide us in our christian character; from the parables of our Saviour we deduce the most important lessons: is there nothing in the instance before us which we can apply to ourselves? It is the temple of the Deity whereof we have been speaking, whither came and knelt thousands from distant lands; whose every stone was hallowed;

that same temple become a "house of merchandize;"-is there nothing here for our instruction? True, we neither buy nor sell; no unhallowed service degrades our faith: true, save when the praises of our Maker ascend on high, these aisles are voiceless; he that strays within them sees no one, hears no one; but the consciousness is with him that he stands in the sanctuary of his God, and he bares his head to the deep, still, solemn, divinity of the place. Contrast the conduct of the Jew;-is the Christian, then, pure before the sight of his Maker, if he dishonour not thus his temple? It is to be feared not. There is an outward and open, and there is also an inward and secret, profanation;-ask your own hearts with what feelings ye crossed yonder threshold this day? Came ye hither with a deep prevailing sense of your own unworthiness? Felt ye, as your foot but touched this holy ground, each corroding

care, each selfish purpose, each unruly will, calm and subdued within you, a new principle acting in your breasts, a new impulse animating your thoughts? Felt ye such a heavenly glow as the soul should feel, parted from the meaner portion of its being?-or was it only barren duty led you here, a sense of the world's respect-a dread of the world's reproach? These are precious moments --this is an awful spot. What! if there should be any amongst us who have ventured to tempt their God-any who have worn the semblance of devotionany who have knelt-any who would be thought to have prayed?-if such there be, speaking in the honest boldness of mine office, I would ask, is it enough that the knee be bent in feigned adoration?--that the hand seem to press with fervency the brow?-that the lip murmur forth some idle sound?-that the eye drop in vacancy?—while the heart, which should give lustre to the eye, and warmth

to the brow, and utterance to the lip, and strength to the sinew, is cold, and dull, and lifeless?-has any fascination possessed the sight?-a day-dream flitted across the mind?-is this some gay and festive scene?-are we surrounded here by all the pomp, and all the allurements, and all the costliness of life?Cast but one brief glance around yousurvey, as careless as you will, these plain undecorated walls, these rude and simple pillars, this cold and timeworn stone, yon homely casements-speak they of earthly pomp?-speak they of earthly pleasure? Does the artless hymn of thanksgiving to one who gave us life, and health, and reason, and all we have, and all we are, and beyond the grave a vast eternity,-do songs as these remind you aught of worldly melody? Be not deceived, the world hath no part here; hither come we, or should come, to perform our weekly pilgrimage; hither are