prayers, and interprets them through a Spirit which has affinity with my spirit.

It is a dark moment when the sense of that personality is lost; more terrible than the doubt of immortality. For, of the two, -eternity without a personal God, or God for seventy years without immortality, — no one after David's heart would hesitate: "Give me God for life, to know and be known by Him." No thought is more hideous than that of an eternity without Him. "My soul is athirst for God." The desire of immortality is second to the desire for God.

3. The taunts of scoffers. "As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God." Now, the hart here spoken of is the hart hunted, at bay, the big tears rolling from his eyes, and the moisture standing black upon his side. Let us see what the persecution was. "Where is now thy God?"-ver. 3. This is ever the way in religious per plexity: the unsympathizing world taunts or misunderstands. In spiritual grief, they ask, Why is he not like others? In bereavement, they call your deep sorrow unbelief. In misfortune, they comfort you, like Job's friends, by calling it a visitation. Or, like the barbarians at Melita, when the viper fastened on Paul's hand, no doubt they call you an infidel, though your soul be crying after God. Specially in that dark and awful hour, "Eloi, Eloi," He called on God; they said, “Let be; let us see whether Elias will come to save Him."

Now, this is sharp to bear. It is easy to say Chris tian fortitude should be superior to it. But in darkness to have no sympathy when the soul gropes for God, to have the hand of man relax its grasp? For est-flies, small as they are, drive the noble war-horse

mad; therefore, David says, “as a sword in my bones" (ver. 10). Now, observe, this feeling of forsakenness is no proof of being forsaken. Mourning after an absent God is an evidence of love as strong as rejoic ing in a present one. Nay, further, a man may be more decisively the servant of God and goodness while doubting His existence, and in the anguish of his soul crying for light, than while resting in a common creed, and coldly serving Him. There has been one, at least, whose apparent forsakenness, and whose seem ing doubt, bears the stamp of the majesty of Faith. "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"

II. David's consolation.

1. And first, in hope (see ver. 5); distinguish between the feelings of faith that God is present, and the hope of faith that He will be so.

There are times when a dense cloud veils the sun. light; you cannot see the sun, nor feel him. Sensitive temperaments feel depression, and that unaccountably and irresistibly. No effort can make you feel. Then you hope. Behind the cloud the sun is; from thence he will come; the day drags through, the darkest and longest night ends at last. Thus we bear the darkness and the otherwise intolerable cold, and many a sleepless night. It does not shine now, but it will. So, too, spiritually.

There are hours in which physical derangement darkens the windows of the soul; days in which shattered nerves make life simply endurance; months and years in which intellectual difficulties, pressing for solution, shut out God. Then faith must be replaced by hope. "What I do thou knowest not now; but

thou shalt know hereafter." Clouds and darkness are round about Him; but Righteousness and Truth are the habitation of His throne. "My soul, hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God."

2. This hope was in God.

The mistake we make is to look for a source of comfort in ourselves: self-contemplation, instead of gazing upon God. In other words, we look for comfort precisely where comfort never can be.

For, first, it is impossible to derive consolation from our own feelings, because of their mutability: to-day we are well, and our spiritual experience, partaking of these circumstances, is bright; but to-morrow some outward circumstances change, the sun does not shine, or the wind is chill, and we are low, gloomy, and sad. Then, if our hopes were unreasonably elevated, they will now be unreasonably depressed; and so our experience becomes flux and reflux, ebb and flow, like the sea, that emblem of instability.

Next, it is impossible to get comfort from our own acts; for, though acts are the test of character, yet in a low state no man can judge justly of his own acts. They assume a darkness of hue which is reflected on them by the eye that contemplates them. It would be well for all men to remember that sinners cannot judge of sin, least of all can we estimate our own sin.

Besides, we lose time in remorse. I have sinned.Well-by the grace of God I must endeavor to do better for the future. But if I mourn for it overmuch, all to-day, refusing to be comforted, to-morrow I shall have to mourn the wasted to-day; and that again will be the subject of another fit of remorse.

In the wilderness, had the children of Israel, instead of gazing on the serpent, looked down on their own wounds, to watch the process of the granulation of the flesh, and see how deep the wound was, and whether it was healing slowly or fast, cure would have been impossible: their only chance was to look off the wounds. Just so, when, giving up this hopeless and sickening work of self-inspection, and turning from ourselves in Christian self-oblivion, we gaze on God, then first the chance of consolation dawns.

He is not affected by our mutability; our changes do not alter Him. When we are restless, He remains serene and calm; when we are low, selfish, mean, or dispirited, He is still the unalterable I AM-the same yesterday, to-day, and forever, in whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. What God is in Himself not what we may chance to feel Him in this or that moment to be-that is our hope. "My soul, hope thou in God."

1

X.

[Preached April 6, 1851.]

FAITH OF THE CENTURION.

MATT. viii. 10. "When Jesus heard it, he marvelled, and said to them that followed, Verily I say unto you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel."

THAT upon which the Son of God fastened as worthy of admiration was not the centurion's benevolence, nor his perseverance, but his faith. And so speaks the whole New Testament, giving a special dignity to faith. By faith we are justified. By faith man removes mountains of difficulty. As the Divinest attri bute in the heart of God is Love, and the mightiest, because the most human, principle in the breast of man is Faith, Love is heaven, Faith is that which appropriates heaven.

Faith is a theological term, rarely used in other matters. Hence its meaning is obscured. But faith is no strange, new, peculiar power, supernaturally infused by Christianity; but the same principle by which we live from day to day one of the commonest in our daily life.

We trust our senses; and that though they often deceive us. We trust men; a battle must often be risked on the intelligence of a spy. A merchant com