if they believed Christianity to be a fable. When young, they indulge their lusts, or at least pursue the world's vanities as time goes on, they get into a fair way of business, or other mode of making money-then they marry and settle and their interest coinciding with their duty, they seem to be, and think themselves, respectable and religious men they grow attached to things as they arethey begin to have a zeal against vice and error-and they follow after peace with all men. Such conduct indeed, as far as it goes, is right and praiseworthy. Only I say, it has not necessarily any thing to do with religion at all; there is nothing in it which is any proof of the presence of religious principle in those who adopt it; there is nothing they would not do still, though they had nothing to gain from it, except what they gain now from it: they do gain something now they do gratify their present wishesthey are quiet and orderly, because it is their interest and taste to be so-but they venture nothing, they risk, they sacrifice, they abandon nothing on the faith of Christ's word.

For instance. St. Barnabas had a property in Cyprus; he gave it up for the poor of Christ. Here is an intelligible sacrifice. He did something he would not have done, unless the Gospel were true. It is plain, if the Gospel turned out a fable, (which God forbid,) but if so, he would have taken his line most unskilfully; he would be in a great mistake; and would have suffered a loss. He would be like a merchant whose vessels were wrecked; or

whose correspondents had failed.

Man has confidence in man; he trusts to the credit of his neighbour; but Christians do not risk largely upon their Saviour's word; and this is the one thing they have to do. Christ tells us Himself, "Make to yourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations';" i. e. buy an interest in the next world with that wealth which this world uses unrighteously; feed the hungry, clothe the naked, relieve the sick, and it shall turn to "bags that wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not." Thus almsdeeds, I say, are an intelligible venture, and an evidence of faith.

So again the man who, when his prospects in the world are good, gives up the promise of wealth or of eminence, in order to be nearer Christ, to have a place in His temple, to have more opportunity for prayer and praise, he makes a sacrifice.

Or he, who from a noble striving after perfection, puts off the desire of worldly comforts, and is like Daniel or St. Paul, in much labour and business, yet with a solitary heart, he too ventures something upon the certainty of the world to come.

Or he who, after falling into sin, repents in deed as well as in word; puts some yoke upon his shoulder; subjects

himself to punishment; is severe upon his flesh; denies himself innocent pleasures; or puts himself to public shame he too shows that his faith is the realizing of things hoped for, the venture upon things not seen.

Or again; he who only gets himself to pray against those things which the many seek after, and to embrace what the heart naturally shrinks from; he who, when God's will seems to tend towards worldly ill, while he deprecates it, yet prevails on himself to say heartily, "Thy will be done;" he, even, is not without his sacrifice. Or he who, being in prospect of wealth, honestly prays God that he may never be rich;-or he who is in prospect of station, and earnestly prays that he may never have it; or he who has friends or kindred, and acquiesces with an entire heart in their removal while it is yet doubtful, who can say, "Take them away, if it be Thy will; to Thee I give them up, to Thee I commit them," who is willing to be taken at his word; he too risks somewhat, and is accepted.

Such a one is taken at his word, while he understands not, perhaps, what he says; but he is accepted, as meaning somewhat, and risking much. Generous hearts, like James and John, or Peter, often speak largely and confidently beforehand of what they will do for Christ, not insincerely, yet ignorantly; and for their sincerity's sake they are taken at their word as a reward, though they have yet to learn how serious that word is. "They say unto Him, We are able;"-and the vow is recorded in

heaven. This is the case of all of us at many seasons. First, at Confirmation; when we promise, what was promised for us at Baptism, yet not being able to understand how much we promise, but rather trusting to God gradually to reveal it, and to give us strength according to our day. So again they who enter Holy Orders, promise they know not what, engage themselves they know not how deeply, debar themselves of the world's ways they know not how intimately, find perchance they must cut off from them the right hand, sacrifice the desire of their eyes and the stirring of their hearts at the foot of the cross, while they thought, in their simplicity, they were but choosing the quiet easy life of “ plain men dwelling in tents." And so again, in various ways, the circumstances of the times cause men at certain seasons to take this path or that, for religion's sake. They know not whither they are being carried; they see not the end of their course; they know no more than this, that it is right to do what they are now doing; and they hear a whisper within them which assures them, as it did the two holy brothers, that whatever their present conduct involves hereafter, they shall through God's grace be equal to it. Those blessed Apostles said, "We are able ;"—and in truth they were enabled to do and suffer as they had said. St. James was given strength to be stedfast unto death, the death of martyrdom; being slain with the sword in Jerusalem. St. John his brother had still more to bear, dying last of the Apostles, as St. James first. He had to bear bereavement, first of his brother, then of the other Apostles.

He had to bear a length of years in loneliness, exile, and weakness. He had to experience the dreariness of being solitary, when those whom he loved had been summoned away. He had to live in his own thoughts without familiar friend, with those only about him who belonged to a younger generation. Of him were demanded by his gracious Lord, as pledges of his faith, all his eye loved and his heart held converse with. He was as a man moving bis goods into a far country, who at intervals and by portions sends them before him, till his present abode is wellnigh unfurnished. He sent forward his friends on their journey, and stayed himself behind, that there might be those in heaven to have thoughts of him, to look out for him, and receive him, when his Lord should call. He sent before him, also, other still more voluntary pledges and ventures of his faith-a self-denying walk, a zealous maintenance of the truth, fasting and prayers, labours of love, a virgin life, buffetings from the heathen, persecution, and banishment. Well might so great a Saint say at the end of his life, "Come, Lord Jesus;" as those who are weary of the night, and wait for the morning. All his thoughts, all his contemplations, desires, and hopes were stored in the invisible world; and death, when it came, brought back to him the sight of what he had worshipped, what he had loved, what he had held intercourse with, in years long past away. Then, when again brought into the presence of what he had lost, how would remembrance revive,—and familiar thoughts long buried come to life. Who shall dare to describe the