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of hell through eternal ages will fail to break-link all souls to the throne of duty. You and duty must ever be together; you can no more flee from it than from yourself. It is the root of your nature. It always confronts you in all its majesty, and says to you in the voice of supreme authority every minute of your conscious life, "Do this and be happy, neglect it and be damned." Your connection with it must either be a source of misery or happiness. It will always It will always be shooting the agony of remorse and self-loathing into the quivering nerves of your nature, and darkening the whole sphere of your being with the frowns of eternal justice, or beaming on your souls the animating and cheering rays of self-commendation and ever-brightening hope. One of these two results is inevitable.

This,

then, being the case, is not the experience of the Psalmist most desirable for all? Since you must live with law, is it not desirable to live with it on friendly terms, to make it a companion that shall be the delight of the soul? Secondly: It is generally attainable. The desirability will not be questioned; but can the good be reached?

Is there a possibility for men who dread law, and groan

with agony at the shadow of its presence and the sound of its voice, to make it a subject of delight, and the jubilant song of life? It is natural to infer the possibility -(1) From the goodness of the Creator. He is good. His goodness is the root of the universe, the fountain of being, the soul of Himself; and it can never be supposed, therefore, that He linked indissolubly his moral creatures to a system of law that would render them miserable. The opposite is the necessary conclusion. He intended law to guide the footsteps of the soul into the paths of imperishable beauty and immortal bliss. (2) From the conformity of the principles of law with the constitution of the soul. There is nothing in the commands of the law to which reason and conscience do not yield their intuitive response. But granting the possibility of its attainment, the question is how? There is but one answer, and it is both simple and satisfactory. It is attained by a supreme love to the Lawgiver. If I love a being intensely, the first question of my mind, and the strongest desire of my heart, is to know what he would have me to do. When I discover his will, the delight of my heart is to set myself to the working it out.

of the suffering child, there prostrate on his little couch, which is felt by the servile servant hard and painful to perform, is attended to by the loving mother with a rapturous delight. It is love to the Lawgiver that changes duty into privilege, and the decalogue into a triumphant psalm. "My meat and my drink is to do the will of my Father who is in heaven." The other remarkable thing which the passage strikes on our attention is

II. Duty set to music IN

UNFAVORABLE CIRCUMSTANCES.

"Thy statutes have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage." Here in this pilgrim state, with all the discomforts and inconveniences of unsettledness and strangeness, he turns the code of duty into song. And he had good reasons for doing so. First Because the sense of duty is our best protection in a world of strangers. We are pilgrims here surrounded on all hands by men and women of whom we know but little. What is that

which protects our property from their cupidity, our lives from their violence? It is the sense of moral accountability that pervades all classes. Unless men had this they would never feel that slander, theft and murder were crimes. The thief would have no more feeling of wrong than the fox in rifling the cottager of his fowls, and a murderer no more feeling of wrong than the lion in devouring the lamb. No!

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thy statutes" are our protection from social wrongs. Civil government would be powerless without this universal sense of responsibility. No system of social order can be based on atheism. Secondly: Because the sense of duty is our permanent reality in this world of change. As pilgrims here, we are subject to perpetual change. Society around us is changing; the outward world is changing; our bodies, our opinions, and our feelings are changing; but the principle of duty and obligation remains permanent and immutable within us. It is like a rock in the sea of our souls, remaining the same amidst all ebbings and flowings of our opinions, emotions, and purposes. Duty is fixed as an eternal pole star within us; by it we measure the changes that are going on around us, and by it we can

to bless have cursed us by the falseness of their professions and the base ingratitude of their conduct. We feel weary when we think of it. Thirdly: The little difference which Providence in its dispensation makes between us and those who are the enemies of Christ. Sometimes in truth they seem to be far more favored. The wicked prosper. felt this, and he lost heart; his foot had almost slipped. Fourthly: The little influence which our best efforts seem to have in correcting the evils of our age. The tide of error, impurity, and vice, seems to rise higher, and swell with stronger surge, despite of all our labors. Such things as

Asaph

these tend to make as faint and weary. Like the old Israelites, our souls get discouraged because of the way.

II. THE ANTIDOTE OF CHRISTIANS WEARINESS: "Consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself." Reflection on Christ will renew our energies, will re-invigorate the soul. First: Consider what He endured: "The contradiction of sinners." Mark the conduct of the Scribes, Pharisees, and Saducees; of Caiaphas, Herod, Pilate, and the

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sider how He endured: "When he was reviled, reviled not again." (1 Peter, ii. 23.) Thirdly: Consider why He endured: it was not for Himself, but for His enemies.

Reflection on Him will make our greatest trials feel light, and stimulate to labor to overcome even as He overcame.

THE QUICKENING WORKS.

"And many other signs truly did Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book: but these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name."-John xx. 30, 31.

EVERY man's life may be compared to a book; and every day adds a page to the biography. Notice

I. THE RECORD. "These are written." First The subjects of the record. The wonderful works and sayings of our Lord. His deeds were such as no human power could accomplish. The miracles

of Christ were performed for three special purposes. (1) As acts of humanity. (2) As proofs of His Divinity. (3) As illustrations of the work R 2

is particularly noticed in the text. These "signs" were done "in the presence of his disciples." Imposture seeks concealment-works in the dark. But "these things were not done in a corner,' but openly-on the stage of public society. The miracle said to every doubter, "Come and see." The number of these miracles is also noted.

Many other signs," &c. Not only are the miracles of Christ recorded, but also His sayings. With what dignity, authority, and power does He speak, &c. Secondly: The mode of the record. It is by writing. "These things are written." The way by which the Divine will has been revealed to mankind, has been by directing and inspiring certain persons to record it in writing. Many advantages are derived from this methed. There is the advantage of universality. A man's writings reach further than his voice. There is the advantage of appeal. "To the law and the testimony" we appeal: this is the judge that ends strife. There is the advantage of security and permanence. The word uttered, perishes; the letter written, remains. Everything of consequence we desire to have in writing. What do we know of ancient history, but by streamlets that

sceptical as to doubt whether such a person as Jesus Christ ever appeared in the world. They never doubted the historic existence of such men as Julius Cæsar or Mahomet. Have we not higher authority for the existence of Jesus Christ? They are written that you may believe

Secondly: In the true character of Jesus Christ. "That Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God." He came to redeem men from the curse of a violation of law, and to "redeem from all iniquity," &c. The great object is more especially

noticed in the next clause of our text, which is

III. THE RESULT. "And that believing ye might have life," &c. Some write books for pecuniary ends, &c. But the Evangelist wrote without