may not at any time be without Christian instruction, still less at the last moment of their precarious existence, be without spiritual comfort. For I do believe, and I repeat my belief, that there is no man so advanced in life, or so near to death, but that the whisper of a Saviour's sacrifice may be a message to salvation.

This parable, I need not add, destroys all human merit. It is sovereignty from first to last; it is grace from first to last; for it is the great law of God, that the last shall be first, and the first last.

In conclusion, let us be thankful that we are born in a land in which the tidings of the vineyard, and of a welcome into it, are proclaimed, and announced from so many pulpits. Great is our responsibility! May we have grace to feel it so.

Have we ourselves entered into that vineyard? We are doing much for Cæsar: what are we doing for Christ? We are doing much for our own advantage in society: what are we doing for the spread of that gospel whose indirect reflection are all the blessings we enjoy as a country and as a people? What place in our heart does eternity occupy ? How often do we think of it? Does it ever occur to us, that the best evidence of acceptance with God, is what we pray for when no ear can hear, no eye can see, and no man can judge, but God himself? Do we ever, in the midst of our toils, lift up the heart beyond the everlasting hills? Does the counting-house ever become consecrated by the consoling thought that does not pause in its upward flight till it has reached the ear of God, and is heard amid the songs of the cherubim? Have we entered that vineyard? Are we the people of God?

Seek first the kingdom of God. Begin life, I say to the young, with religion; carry on life with religion; enter upon every new duty, upon every new sphere, upon every

new relationship, with a deep sense of responsibility to God, and a deep conviction that the practice of piety is the experience of the truest happiness.

It is here also important to observe that every figure used to describe a Christian, negatives the idea of indolence. Christians are labourers; they are placed in a vineyard, in which they are to labour. "Labour not for the meat which perisheth." "Other men laboured, and ye are entered into their labours." We are "fellowlabourers with God." Thus we see that while religion is happiness, it is not indolence. While Christians are made happy, let us not forget that thep are called upon to discharge duties.

As we are here represented as placed in a vineyard, and as labourers in it, two things, we must not forget, are necessary to success: the terrestrial labour, which is ours; and the celestial labour, which is God's. Take the finest soil, and the sunniest side of the hill; still the vine will not grow, grapes will not be produced, unless there be congenial sunshine, and descending rains and dews from heaven; and on the other hand, should there be sunshine, and dews, and rains, and a fertile soil, and every thing required from above; but no weeding, no pruning, no cultivating, no clearing-there will be no grapes. God has so ordered things, that the means and the blessing go together; and he that does not use the means, has no right to expect the blessing; while he that does use the means, and pray for the blessing, is sure to find it. Let us, therefore, pray the Lord of the vineyard, that he will send out other labourers still into the vineyard. Let us pray, that there may, day by day, be an abundant increase in the earth, so that when he comes again, he may find its desert places rejoicing, and its solitary places blossoming as the

rose.

116

LECTURE VII.

THE FRUIT OF FORGIVENESS.

And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with him. And he went into the Pharisee's house, and sat down to meat. And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself saying, This man if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him for she is a sinner. And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was

a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou has rightly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.-LUKE vii. 37-50.

I WOULD read first the narrative in another parable, Matthew xxvi. 6-13: "Now when Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, there came unto him a woman having an alabaster box of very precious ointment, and poured it on his head, as he sat at meat. But when

the disciples saw it, they had indignation, saying, To what purpose is this waste? For this ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor. When Jesus understood it, he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me, for ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hath done, be told for a memorial of her." In John xii. 1-8, we read, "Then Jesus six days before the passover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead. There they made him a supper; and Martha served: but Lazarus was one of them that sat at the table with him. Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair: and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment. Then saith one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, which should betray him, Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor? This he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief, and had the bag, and bare what was put therein. Then said Jesus, Let her alone; against the day of my burying hath she kept this. For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always." These passages are substantially alike, they relate to precisely the same thing.

How happens it that a woman so described found unobstructed access to these hospitalities? It can only be explained by a fact related in the following extract from a mission of inquiry to the Jews conducted under the auspices of the Church of Scotland; which is as follows:-"At dinner at the consul's house at Damietta, in the room beside the

divan in which we sat, were seats all round the room. Many came in and took their places on the side seats uninvited. They spoke to those at table on the news of the day, and our host spoke to them in return. We were reminded of the scene at Simon's house at Bethany. We afterward saw the same custom at Jerusalem. We were sitting round Mr. Nicolayson's room, when first one and then another stranger came in and took his seat beside us." The woman recorded by Luke came plainly, not from curiosity, or from mere forwardness of disposition, but from a deep sense and feeling of sin, and its shadow-the misery that ever accompanies it. She was bold, not from the hardening effects of sin, but from earnest anxiety to see the Saviour, and to obtain from him the blessing that she felt she truly needed and he could bestow. The Pharisee had no idea of Christ as the great Sin-forgiver, nor any sympathy with the woman as a forgiveness-seeker. He held it, in common with his sect, the very highest virtue to stand aloof from all that was ceremonially unclean. "Stand aside; I am holier than thou," was the characteristic feeling of a Pharisee. This is not the spirit of the gospel, nor the tone or temper of a Christian. Deeply the sinner is to be pitied, however sternly the sin in which he indulges ought to be rebuked. The sinner is far from unpunished upon earth, he suffers even here for his sins; he pays terrible penalties even in this life. Pain, disappointment, and remorse are no light penalties, which he is doomed to suffer as the effects of his transgressions. And he gathers up for the future yet more terrible retribution. He needs deeply to be pitied. It is not the cold, sarcastic remark, or the bitter theological rancour, or the ceremonial and sectarian repugnance, that will do him good. We must speak in tones of human pity, of deep yet holy sympathy, and be ready to point out the nature and the issues of his transgression.