where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon; for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?" "If," he replies, "if thou know not, oh thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents." Song i. 7, 8. The way to find the shepherd of Israel, who leadeth Joseph as a flock, is for the sheep to keep together walking in each other's steps; for should they lose him, he would soon seek out them--for where the sheep of his pasture be, there his heart's affections are. Ezek. xxxiv. 11, 12.

It is our strength and safety, beloved brethren, to walk together through the wilderness-to keep together on the battle-field. Elsewhere we may meet with gay and pleasant companions; but travelling to a different land, they cannot be followed as guides-arrayed under hostile banners, they cannot be trusted as friends. Hosea vii. 8, 9. The world knows us not. It cannot enter into our feelings, nor understand our solicitudes, nor give counsel in our perplexities. It cannot partake in our privileges, nor share our hopes, nor sympathize in our sorrows, nor comprehend our joys. It cannot weep with us when we weep, nor rejoice with us when we rejoice. But in the family of God, redeemed by the same precious blood, sealed and annointed with the same quickening Spirit, holding of the same living Head, we may, we ought, to find the friends to whom, as subject to the same temptations, encompassed with the same weakness, passing through the same experience, we may open up our hearts, explain our difficulties, and seek counsel in our spiritual perplexities-to whom we may impart in confidence every wish, every weakness of our heart. Thus, brethren, we might bear each other's burden, and be helpers of each other's joy. But for this, our intercourse would require to be differently regulated than even among Christians it is. We would require to meet less as mere friends and acquaintancesmore as brethren and members of the family of God. Our conversation would require to partake more of heaven, to be more serious, more spiritual, more devout, more open- -more fragrant, above all things, with the name of Jesus. It would need to be preceded, to be pervaded, by more of prayer; for never does the child of God require to be more watchful unto prayer than in entering company, not of the world alone, but of God's own people, so as to be kept mindful of his high vocation, and to walk worthy of the Lord unto all well-pleasing. For remember, brethren, our life must be our religion, or our religion is nothing. Wherefore, dearly beloved, "let us consider one another, to provoke unto love and to good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is, but exhorting one another; and so much the more as YE SEE THE DAY APPROACHING."

Such, beloved brethren, is the spirit, and such the attitude in which it becomes the disciples of the Lord to be found waiting for the promise of the Father. It is an object of universal interest; for as the future coming of the Lord Jesus is the Church's hope, the present outpouring of the Holy Spirit is the Church's heritage. The child of God can never cease to long for a fresh outpouring of the Spirit, so long as he feels any deadness in his own heart, or sees so many dead souls around. The love of Christ will constrain him to sigh after a closer walk with God himself, and will give him no rest till he sees others walking in the light along with him. And let none of you think, dear brethren, that you are too young, or too inexperienced, or too little advanced in the Christian life, to be entitled or called upon to become intercessors with God for the outpouring of the Spirit on all flesh. The most acceptable offerings you can present to God, upon your own conversion, are the yearnings of your heart over dead souls, and your earnest pleadings for the promise of the Father. If your faith be weak, if your views be dark, if your hearts be straitened, rest assured nothing will tend more to impart realizing power to faith, to cause light to arise in darkness, to give freedom and enlargement in the straitening of the heart, than dealing closely and confidingly with Jesus for the promised season of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. Dealing with God apart, for the time, from the fears and solicitudes of personal interest and anxiety, the soul gets accustomed to contemplate him upon the mercy-seat as reconciled in Jesus Christ, and warms unconsciously in the sense of his forgiving love. Song vii. 11, 12. It is from Jesus that the Spirit comes; it is to Jesus that the Spirit points. Hence it is in looking unto Jesus you are to expect the Spirit; in seeing Jesus more clearly, you will recognise and feel the Spirit's presence when he comes; for he is ever proceeding from before the throne of Jesus; he is ever shining on his cross. As the living Head, Jesus secures and dispenses the Spirit to man; as the living Witness, the Spirit enlightens and draws men to Jesus. If, therefore, we would bring back the Spirit in his absence, we must wait upon the throne of grace; if we would enjoy the Spirit in his presence, we must linger round the cross. Thus it is in dealing with Jesus that we receive the promise of the Father; and in receiving the promise of the Father, we are linked in a covenant that never shall be broken, unto Jesus, as our covenant Head.

SERMON XII.

THE CONSOLATIONS OF CHRIST ADAPTED TO THE STATE AND CHARACTER OF HIS PEOPLE.

BY THE REV. ROBERT S. CANDLISH, D.D., EDINBURGH.

John xi. 21.-" Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."-v. 32.-" Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

"Ir is better," says the wise man, "to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is better than laughter; for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning: but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth." And if this be true generally of the effect which should be produced by familiarizing the heart with the devout contemplation of death, and of the grief which death occasions, it must be so especially when we have Jesus as our companion. Often, during our Lord's visits to Jerusalem, we find him gladly retreating in the evenings, after the toils and trials of his daily ministry in the Temple, to the quiet village of Bethany, and the peaceful abode of Lazarus, and there reposing amid the holy endearments of a congenial family circle. Now we are about to visit with him this house as the house of mourning, and to observe how he is received there, and how his presence cheers the gloom. 1. The sisters, both of them, greet him with the same pathetic salutation, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died;" and this might seem to indicate an entire similarity in their sorrow. 2. But if we look a little closer, we see a striking difference of demeanour, corresponding to the great general difference of their characters. 3. And this difference is marked in our Lord's different treatment of them. From this study we shall learn-1st, How much sameness there is in grief; 2d, How much variety; 3d, How much compass in the consolation of Christ, as capable of being adapted to all varieties of grief, to grief of every mould and of every mood. We speak chiefly throughout of the grief of Christians; for we think we may assume that, notwithstanding their great contrast in respect of natural temperament, the two sisters were partakers of the same grace.

SER. 12.-No. 12.

I. It is remarkable that two persons so different in their turn of mind, so apt to view things in different lights, and to be affected by them with different feelings, should both utter the same words, on first meeting the Lord Jesus-" Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." It shows how natural such a reflection is in such a season-how truly the heart, when deeply moved, is the same in all-and how much all grief is alike. The sisters, however otherwise dissimilar, were united in their affection for their departed brother, and in their grateful reliance on that Friend "who loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus." They had sat and watched together beside their brother's bed of sickness. They joined together in sending unto Jesus, saying, "Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick." In their distress they both thought of the same remedy, and applied to the same physician. It was a joint petition that they despatched, and they did not doubt that it would prevail. Together they waited anxiously for his coming. They reckoned the very earliest moment when he could arrive; and as they looked on their brother's languid eye, and saw him sinking every hour and wasting away, ah! they thought how soon their benefactor might appear, and all might yet be well. But moments and hours rolled on, and no Saviour came. Wearisome days and nights were appointed to them. Often did they look out and listen; often did they fancy that they heard the expected sound, and the well-known accents of kindness seemed to fall upon their ears. But still he came not. Ah! what were their anxious thoughts, their earnest communings, their fond prayers, that life might be prolonged at least for a little longer, to give one other chance, one other opportunity, for the interposition of Him who was mighty to save even from the gates of death; and how were their own hearts sickened, as they whispered to the sick man a faint hope, which now they could scarcely themselves believe. Still the time rolls slowly on. The last ray of expectation is extinguished; the dreaded hour is come; it is over; their brother has fallen asleep; Lazarus is dead. And now four days are past and gone since he has been laid in the silent tomb. The first violence of grief is giving place to the more calm, but far more bitter pain of a desolate and dreary sadness, the prolonged sense of bereavement which recollection brings along with it, and which everything around serves to aggravate and embitter. The house of mourning, after the usual temporary excitement, is still, it is the melancholy stillness of the calm darkly brooding over the wrecks of the recent storm,-and amid the real kindness of sympathising friends, and the formal attentions of officious strangers, the sisters, as each familiar object recalls the past, are soothing, or suppressing, as best they may, those bitter feelings which their own hearts alone can know; when suddenly they are told that Jesus is at hand. He is

come at last, but he is come too late. Still his coming at all is a comfort; he is welcome as their own and their brother's friend; he is welcome as their Lord. They never doubt his friendship; they question not his willingness, or his power, to do them good. But still, as they meet him, they cannot but look back on the few days that are gone; and as all their anxieties and alarms, their longing hopes and cruel disappointments, rush again upon their minds, they are constrained to give utterance to the crowded emotions of their hearts in the irrepressible exclamation, "Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died."

It is the voice of nature that speaks in these words-the voice of our common nature mingling its vain regrets with the resignation of sincere and simple faith.

1. There is the feeling that the event might have been otherwise. "IF thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." We know not what it was that detained thee, what prevented thee from coming: perhaps our message did not reach thee in time, or some casual circumstance hindered thee. Had this sickness happened but a little sooner, when thou wast in Jerusalem at the feast: or had we taken alarm soon enough, so as to send for thee before our brother was so ill; or had our messenger been more expeditious, and used more despatch; or had we been able but to lengthen out by our care, our brother's sickness for a single week; had we not been so unfortunate in the occurrence of this evil just when it did occur; or had we but used more diligence, and taken more precaution-then thou mightst have been here, and if thou hadst been here, our brother had not died.

Ah, is it not thus that the heart speaks under every trying dispensation? Is it not thus that an excited imagination whispers to the forlorn soul? Which of you has ever met with any affliction—which of you has ever lost any dear friend, without cherishing some such delusion as this? If such or such a measure had been adopted; if such or such an accident had not happened; if it had not been for this unaccountable oversight, or that unforeseen and unavoidable mischance, so grievous a calamity would not have befallen me; my brother would not have died. Alas! and is not this altogether a sad delusion, proceeding upon a very limited view of the power and the providence of God your Saviour? How did these sisters know that, if Jesus had been there, their brother would not have died? How could they tell whether he might not have ends to serve, which would have required that, even though he had been there, he should yet have permitted him to die? And were they not aware that, though he was not there, yet, if he had so chosen and so ordered it, their brother would not have died? Had they not heard of his being able at the distance of many a long mile, to effect an immediate and complete