sonal knowledge of him, and had seen and experienced the excellencies of his character in a variety of particular instances.

Christian faith, then, has this advantage over simple religious faith, in the more general sense of the word, that, having obtained clearer and fuller notions of God's perfections, it is rendered stronger and more triumphant over temptations. "Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" Even they who do believe this, find the world sufficiently dangerous, and the victory sufficiently difficult; but they who have not this faith find the victory more than difficult-it is altogether impossible. And they who have it in word only, or in whom it only exercises its power occasionally, will, practically, derive no greater benefit from it than those who have it not at all.

We had a general notion,

Now Christian faith, or the faith that Jesus is the Son of God, gives us so much clearer and fuller notions of God, that it makes us know both him and ourselves, and love him, far better than we could do without it. by mere religious faith, that God was a holy God, and that he must judge far differently of sin from the judgment that we are accustomed to pass on it. But Christian faith makes us say to ourselves, "I see now how very much God must abhor sin, since, without the precious blood of his own Son, there could be no remission for it." Again, na

tural religion tells us that God is merciful; but Christian faith makes us say, "How can I be thankful enough to the infinite goodness of God, since he has given his only-begotten Son to die for me?" Again, natural religion teaches us to think humbly of ourselves, and to look to God for strength to help us. But the Christian says, "If the only-begotten Son of God has died for me, it is clear that my own deeds could do nothing for me in God's judgment; it is clear that they are too worthless to weigh a hair in the scale, when put with the infinite value of Christ's sacrifice. And if Christ has obtained for me, by his death and rising again, the gift of the Holy Ghost, it is clear that he that is with me is greater than he that is against me, and that I may struggle with confidence against my temptations, knowing that in that struggle the Eternal Spirit of God will aid me." Further, the very simplest notions of God tell us, that holy things and holy places must not be profaned by the mixture of evil. But the Christian thinks, "My body is a holy thing, for God has redeemed it; my heart is a holy place, for the Holy Ghost has made it his temple. Every evil, therefore, of thought, and word, and deed, profanes a thing set apart to God's special service; profanes a place where God continually dwells. Every lust, every evil and unkind passion, is, therefore, a sacrilege." And, then, if he turns to the temptations of the world, and casts

the eye of faith towards that future and unseen recompense which is promised him, he bethinks him at what price it was purchased for him, and by what infinite love it was given; he feels, on the one hand, how worthless must be his own efforts to earn that which only the blood of the Son of God could buy; yet, with what zealous hope he may labour, sure that God is mightily working in him, giving him an earnest will, and strengthening him to do steadily, what he has willed sincerely.

This, then, is a faith that overcometh the world; for it is a faith that looks to an eternal reward, and which is founded on such a display of God's love and holiness, that the Christian may well say, "I know in whom I have believed." Conceive any one of us, old or young, having this faith, and do we not feel sure that it must overcome the world? Do we not feel sure that all temptations must be powerless against him who is heartily persuaded of what God has done, and will do for him, who looks forward to the kingdom of heaven, and knows and feels by whose blood it has been thrown open to him? Do we not see clearly, and do not our own hearts tell us, that if temptations are too strong for us, it is because our faith is weak? If the present pleasure beguiles us, is it not because the future blessing is one of which we do not feel quite sure? Is it not because the love of Christ, in dying for us, is rather a sound familiar to our

ears, than a reality, thoroughly impressed on our hearts and minds? Have you not, in fact, so felt it to be, even while I have been now addressing you? The sounds, the words, which I have been using, are so familiar to your ears, that they seem uninteresting from their very triteness. Your attention would be ten times more aroused by the commonest story which I could tell you, about the commonest worldly interest; yet, while the words are thus so familiar, the reality of them is altogether strange to you. If your attention has followed what I have said, I know that in much of it I shall have been as one who beateth the air; that the love of God in Christ gives you really no distinct and lively idea: your hearts and minds do not take it in. Assuredly the faith which you find at once so uninteresting, and so hard to understand, cannot be the ruling principle of your lives you cannot, in any sense, be walking by faith. And, therefore, I have thought that it might be well to say a few words in conclusion, as to the means of gaining this faith; to tell you how you may, with God's blessing, come to understand it and to love it, and to act upon it, just as naturally as we now act every day, from some motive of worldly pleasure or pain.

I dare say, that when I speak of the means of gaining this faith, you will know at once to what I am alluding; so impossible is it to say what you do not know already; as impossible, indeed, as it

appears to be to make you feel it as well as know it. The means are principally three-reading the scripture, prayer, and a partaking of the Lord's supper. You see what it is that is wanted; namely, to make notions wholly remote from your common life take their place in your minds as more powerful than the things of common life:-to make the future and the unseen prevail over what you see and hear now around you. I know, indeed, of one thing which would effect this in an instant. Let any of you be taken dangerously ill, let his prospects of earthly life be rendered less than uncertain, then he would soon think far more of the unseen world than of the world now around us. And it is certain, or at least all but certain, that some of you who now hear me will be thus reminded of another world-out of the number here assembled, it is certain that some will be cut off before they reach their prime. No one, who has left school ten years, will find that all who were his companions there are still alive: therefore, although taking you each separately, the probabilities are, that you will live on to the natural age of man; yet, taking you altogether, it is more than a probability that you will not. But this is always one of those cases in which every one trusts that the chances will be in his own favour; and this innate gambling spirit of human nature it is mostly vain to argue with. Your business is to

VOL. II.

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