Christian Instruction.

MERCIES REVIEWED.

BY REV. E. W. SHALDERS, B.A., ROCHESTER.

"Who redeemeth thy life from destruction," &c.-PSALM ciii. 4, 5. In the book of Ezekiel we read a very graphic description of the Lord's dealings with the city of Jerusalem, from the time when it was an obscure and polluted abode of heathen wretchedness to that period in its history when it became the joy of the whole land, the city of the great King-in whose palaces God was known for a refuge. The description is a parable, in which the original state of Jerusalem-or, rather, of the kingdom and nation of which Jerusalem was the representative-is set forth under the figure of a female infant exposed to perish in the open field without an eye to pity or to have compassion in the day that she was born. In this polluted and perishing state the Lord saw her, and said unto her, "Live." Nurtured by His guardian care, she grew to woman's estate, and again the Lord passed by and entered into marriage covenant with her, and she became His. Then the parable proceeds: "I washed thee with water, yea, I throughly washed away thy blood from thee, and I anointed thee with oil. I clothed thee also with broidered work, and shod thee with badgers' skin, and I girded thee about with fine linen, and I covered thee with silk. I decked thee also with ornaments, and I put bracelets upon thy hands, and a chain on thy neck. And I put a jewel on thy forehead, and earrings in thine ears, and a beautiful crown upon thine head. Thus wast thou decked with gold and silver; and thy raiment was of fine linen and silk and broidered work; thou didst eat fine flour, and honey, and oil: and thou wast exceeding beautiful, and thou didst prosper into a kingdom. And thy renown went forth among the heathen for thy beauty; for it was perfect through my comeliness, which I had put upon thee, saith the Lord God." Now I offer this as an extended illustration of the fourth verse of this Psalm, "Who redeemeth thy life from destruction, and crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies." The Psalmist speaks of favours shown to him in the greatest straits-of deliverances from the greatest perils-of having been snatched

from the very jaws of death. "Who redeemeth thy life from destruction;" and then, remembering how tenderly, how royally these gracious acts had been done, he adds, "Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies." The distinguishing feature in the Lord's dealing which the Psalmist desires to put on grateful record is that He is not content with simply relieving our wretchedness or delivering us from imminent peril, but crowns His work with such acts of lovingkindness and tender mercy as only the deepest love and tenderness could possibly devise. It is for us to review God's ways toward us, and see if there is nothing in our past experience which bespeaks Him a Redeemer beyond our highest expectations-a benefactor with a royal heart.

The way in which a man performs a kindness affords a pretty sure indication of his character. A vain and boastful man cannot put his hand into his pocket to relieve a beggar without betraying his infirmity to the first acquaintance he meets. The stern man, whose notions of the relative duties of life are formed chiefly upon what he conceives to be his rights, if he so far relaxes as to lend a helping hand to a friend in trouble, measures out his benevolence with a severe exactness, fearful of doing any more than the most pressing urgency of the case may demand. He seems to be ever on his guard, lest he should create an expectation of further kindness which he might feel bound to satisfy. As a natural consequence, he finds his favours received coldly, if not with a feeling something like resentment, and so, not meeting with the gratitude which he had looked for as his due, he freezes down into an icier mood than ever. Then there is another variety of selfishness, which prompts a man to relieve distress, because it disturbs his calm self-complacency. Such a man never seeks out a sufferer. When he can, he passes by on the other side with averted eye, lest he should suffer the pain of sympathy, and have to do something to relieve it. The most he ever does is just sufficient to soothe a painful feeling, excited by that knowledge of distress which he has been unable to escape. Few men give royally. Dependents upon human generosity have often to suffer a double pang-the humiliation of receiving aid from those who are unworthy of the honour of bestowing it, and then the mortification of being reminded of it afterwards. How different is it with the Giver of every good and every perfect gift! He giveth liberally, and upbraideth not-gives not so much according to what may meet the case, as according to the opportunity it affords Him of gratifying His desire of conferring

happiness. He gives great things, and crowns His gifts with little acts of lovingkindness and tender mercy. Here is the unmistakeable sign of a loving nature. Peep over a boy's shoulder as he unpacks his trunk in the strange place where he has come to begin the battle of life. You shall be able to tell who packed it— whether he comes from a motherless home, or whether there is a throbbing, anxious heart, full of hope, and fear, and prayer, yearning after him in the home he left. The sign that no less sacred hand than hers who nursed him has packed that trunk is not in the ample supply of clothes and linen, nor in the careful inventory of contents nailed inside the lid, but in the little trifles, which, with moistened eye, he takes out one by one,-a pocket Testament, a note with a few last words of love and counsel,—a little extra pocket-money from her own purse, or some little dainty prepared by her own hand. Thus do kind hearts, even amongst men, crown a full and generous supply of our wants with lovingkindnesses and tender mercies. They give liberally to satisfy an enlarged sense of duty, and a little more to express their love. It is thus that God deals with us. Illustrations of this are not wanting in the experiences of everyday life.

A man is in failing health for years; he is not ill enough to arouse apprehension, nor well enough to have much comfort in life. Some epidemic comes and numbers him among its victims. He is drawn down to the gates of death. His hold on life becomes slenderer day by day, until at last he hangs by a thread. Then the redeeming hand is put forth. Slowly, but surely, he is recovered. New health and new vigour-not the scanty measure of health and vigour with which he has lived for years past, but the strength and energy of early manhood-come back to him, and he enters the house of the Lord to praise Him not only for life spared, but for the crowning mercy of a long-lost strength.

So when God finds us in trouble, and works out deliverance for us, He is often not content with leaving us where we were before the trouble came, but lifts us higher on the hill of prosperity. This is the lesson which the Apostle James extracts from the history of Job: "Ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy."

This characteristic in God's dealings is strikingly illustrated in the history of redemption. Surround a man with such joys and comforts as are attainable in this world, and let him have the fear

of God in his heart, and that man will enjoy a measure of bappiness, such as would, I think, content most of us. Exclude pain, sorrow, and bereavement, and he would feel himself in a paradise. It is just such a condition which we picture to ourselves as man's original inheritance before he fell from God's favour. If God's design in our redemption aimed at nothing higher than the restora tion to man of his lost estate, it would be a great and merciful redemption. In most cases it would satisfy our highest conceptions of heaven. The difference between the present state of mankind, without God and without hope in the world, subject to pains and griefs numberless, and in bondage through the fear of death— and such a state as Adam enjoyed in Paradise, would certainly have been a mighty difference. The saved in such a case would have had every reason to speak in adoring thankfulness of Him who had redeemed their life from destruction, but how much more now! What hath God wrought? By sending His Son to take upon Him our nature, He has raised human nature far above its original standing and destination. He made man a little lower than the angels, but He has redeemed him to occupy we know not what station of honour and bliss. Man redeemed is so superior to man created, that the tabernacle framed originally for the habitation of his soul is no longer suited for the tenant. Nothing short of a body made like unto the glorious body of the redeeming Saviour is sufficient for the dwelling-place of the renewed and glorified spirit. The earth itself must undergo a change before it will be a worthy abode for redeemed humanity. Fervent heat is to purify it. The new world is to rise from the ashes of the old. Geologists tell us that there is no break in the chain of life which connects the various epochs of creation, but the order of things hereafter to be established is to be on a scale so immeasurably superior, that the very foundations on which the present creation stands are to be purified by fire, that the new Jerusalem may not rest upon the sepulchres of ages; that not in the earth beneath, any more than in the heaven above, may there be any trace left of suffering, death, and decay. The glory of which the Scriptures give us a glimpse is so bright that the eye of fancy is utterly blind to it. We may raise our expectations with images borrowed from a past or present state of being, but, after all," Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." Is not all this glory and bliss superadded to redemption from everlasting

destruction a crown of lovingkindness and tender mercy? What seraph, burning with the warmest fervours of love that were ever kindled in the heart of a created being, could have conceived of such unmeasured love and mercy towards sinful mortals? See that ye neglect not so great salvation.

It is still more interesting, perhaps, to trace this characteristic in God's dealings with men's souls. Happy are you if you can trace it in His dealings with your souls. Let me remind you of the time when a voice came to you as from Sinai's cloudy, fiery gloom, saying, “God is angry with the wicked every day." "The soul that sinneth, it shall die." "All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God." Do you remember how the eye of your soul, looking upward, beheld an angry God, how the load of your guilt lay heavy at your heart, how the promises of mercy seemed to have no application to you, and how the way of salvation appeared a steep which you could never climb? Hell gaped as it were at your feet, and death was to you only the opening of a prison door to lead you forth to the great assize. You cried for mercy thensimply mercy-a drop of water to cool the fever of your raging thirst. Then Christ came to you, and bid you look on Him and live, assured you of His love, invited your confidence, and spoke of rest for your soul. Rest-rest from an accusing conscience-rest from great alarms-rest from harassing temptations suggesting hard and murmuring thoughts of God-that was almost all you desired. By grace you believed. The God of faith helping you, you brought sins, fears, and infirmities, and laid them down at the foot of the Cross, trusting in the all-sufficiency of Him who hung thereon to take them away, and bury them out of sight. At His forgiving word came peace-a peace so sweet, so utterly unlike anything you had experienced before, that your soul was for a season bathed in a sea of delights. Hope, new born in your heart, shed a light of such heavenly radiance there as filled you with rapture. You asked for rest, and there came not only rest, but joy; you asked that the fear of death and judgment might be taken away, and there came a hope of heaven so cheering and soul-sustaining that, in the strength of it, you felt that you could not only walk, but run in the way of God's commandments. Thus He who giveth more than we can deserve or desire redeemed your life from destruction, and crowned you with lovingkindness and tender mercy.

But

you have had other experiences besides this. Some of you