tent power only where a pedestal was required for forgiving mercy to shine forth most luminously. There was no excess, no prodigality of power. What an instance of patience when he was taunted by the scribes and Pharisees! "He saved others ;" an admission that he possessed vast power. What humility, what self-annihilation, what abasement in his hearing the additional remark, “Himself he cannot save!" Can we be conscious of possessing power, and yet conceal it, when to do so is for the glory of God? Are we conscious of possessing talents, and yet, because silence is duty, say nothing about them? Is it not too true, that we are prone to pretend to more talent than we have, and to deny to our neighbour that which he really has? Our pride, with all our pretences to humility, breaks out upon the right hand and upon the left; and nothing so shows the depth of our ruin as one atom of pride remaining in a sinner who has rebelled against God, and made himself worthy of eternal wo.

Learn, then, from this parable, the lesson that we are saved by grace; that the ground of our salvation is nothing in us, nothing by us, nothing through us, but a complete righteousness and sacrifice without us. We must not forget this. The ever-present sense of it is the ground of our happiness, ay, and is the ground-spring of true humility. By grace we are saved. Our sins are our own, and we cannot be proud of them; we cannot be proud of our virtues, for they are not our own. We cannot be saved by our merits, for we have none. If saved at all, we must be saved by grace. The greatest philanthropist, the most honoured, the most upright, the most exalted, must be saved precisely on the same footing, and in the same character, as the thief on the cross, or the greatest and guiltiest criminal. There is no royal or noble road to heaven. All must lie down before God, prostrate on the

same level of common ruin; and, precious thought, all may look up to the great height of promised glory, and be sure of obtaining it in and through Christ Jesus. There is no sinner on earth who has any reason or any right to despair. The God who forgave the publican is the same to-day that he was then. It is true that he still delighteth in mercy. He is still, as in the days of Abraham, and in the days of the publican, "the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin." It is true now, as then, that we have not a High-Priest that cannot be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, but one who was tempted in all points like as we are. Let us therefore-on this ground-because we have such a High-Priest, come boldly to the throne of grace, to obtain mercy and to find grace to help us in time of need.

Let us learn what true prayer is. Many pray from the heart who, I think, pray not in beautiful words. Prayer is not much speaking; it is not an elegant form; it is not the most exquisitely balanced antithesis; it is not telling God something that he does not know; it is still less making prayer the channel for preaching to those that are present. It is the simple cry of a broken heart to that God who can have mercy and forgiveness. It is a remarkable proof of this, that almost all the forms of prayer in the Bible, accepted before God, were extremely short and simple; and that exquisite model that our blessed Lord taught us, is the shortest and simplest of all. Nothing seems to me so harsh as argument in prayer. Very fine language, very beautiful metaphors, very poetic diction, are all extremely pretty in a book of poetry, but abominable when used in prayer to the great God. Whatever fault there may be in one part in the Church of England liturgy, (and I do think its strong language in its

baptismal service alike unhappy and even perilous,) its general confession and litany are exquisite models of true prayer. What can be simpler than, "We have done those things which we ought not to have done"-every word a monosyllable; "we have left undone those things which we ought to have done." The words are all simple, pure Saxon, so that the poorest Sunday-school child can understand them, and the greatest philosopher may bow down his spirit and use them. Why is this? Not so much because of any original power in those who wrote, but because the Reformers were imbued with scriptural language, and thoroughly acquainted with Bible truth; and if that liturgy were but half its present length, and the parts that are justly objected to rescinded, it would be all but perfect. But we too can pray, in words which the Holy Ghost teacheth. Let us learn from this Bible not only what are our wants and necessities, what are God's mercies and forgivenesses, but also how to speak to God.

There will arrive a blessed time, when no more prayer will be practised. Praise will be the employment of the blessed. Neither the Pharisee's self-praise, nor the publican's deep compunction, will be heard. There will be no wants to feel, and no sins to be forgiven. There will be only reasons for adoration, thanksgiving, and glory to Him who sits upon the throne. In proportion as we arrive at this experience now, we anticipate the blessed future.

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LECTURE XIV.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN.

And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that showed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.-LUKE X. 30-37.

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I Do not think that the questioner here, namely, the lawyer, had any captious or cavilling design in putting the question to Jesus, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" It is true, the expression occurs, tempted him;" but the word "tempt" does not necessarily mean to influence, by the application of evil motives, or spreading out iniquitous prospects; it is, strictly, ascertaining what depth was in him, what response he could give, what wisdom he might manifest; and so far, therefore, as we can gather from the whole parable, he seems to have put the question from a right motive, in a right spirit, in the most respectful, earnest, and appropriate form, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" And if the lawyer put this question, then we ought to put the same question still, for of all questions, it

all know this. Many

is the weightiest, it is the question of questions. There are few that do not instantly acquiesce in what I now state; but the acquiescence that rests upon the surface of the mind, and the deep response that springs from the depths of the heart, are two totally distinct things. I believe many slide down to the depths of perdition, consenting to every thing, and feeling and accepting and disputing nothing. The question, then, is a momentous one, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Many far less momentous agitate and vex us; well do we far less important are asked by us every day, and answers sought to them from every avenue and at every hazard: and yet our condition is not as if we were born into the world possessed of eternal life, and had only to take means and prescriptions for maintaining it: but if there be any one statement in the Bible clearer than others, it is this, that we are born into the world without eternal life. The soul is already a lost thing, and this we must feel and act on, before we can be saved. Many persons have the idea that they must be guilty of some great crime before they can forfeit heaven. That is not the fact: it is already forfeited; it is the first axiom in Christianity, that we are lost, that naturally we have turned our backs upon heaven, and our faces to destruction: by our sins we have lost the one, and by our deliberate choice we have embraced and accepted the other. And if eternal life is already lost, we ought to have evidence that we have found it, before we can have any thing like peace within, or bright hopes before us. I do not here stop to question whether this be just, or generous, or consistent with our ideas of God: this is the metaphysics of the question, with which I have not any concern: it is a fact which we ought to attend to, not a subtle dispute which we ought to try to solve. We have lost life; we have now to find it. Men and brethren, let