as the poet tells us, and in the hearing of the sea; but let us never be so false to Him who is the Resurrection and the Life, as to fancy that it is there the text is fulfilled. Nay; but when we would look towards the place of which the Patriarch's words are truest, let us turn our eyes not to the green earth below, but to the bright heaven above; let us think, not of the senseless slumber in the dust of the poor dying body, but of the bliss and purity and safety of the immortal soul; and looking towards that Golden City,-towards that "Country" sought so earnestly by the "strangers and pilgrims on the earth," with its perfect peace, and holiness, and happiness, let us thank God that "There,” indeed, — that "There the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest! "

IX.

CONTINUANCE THE TEST OF RELIGIOUS PROFESSION.

JOHN

"And that your fruit should remain." - John xv. 16.

蜜

HERE are few things which, as we grow older and get more experience, impress us more deeply than the transitoriness of thoughts and feelings in the human

heart. We observe this in those around us; and we feel this in ourselves. Places and persons that we once thought we never could forget, as years go on are all but quite forgotten; and feelings that we once thought would have remained in our hearts so long as they beat, as years go on, come to stir their pulses no more. Some of us may remember the days when we fancied we never could be happy away from the home of our youth, and the pang with which we left it; but now, perhaps, we never miss it though it has not been seen for years. Some of us may remember with what sorrow we left the scene and the friends of some happy period of our life, which now, away in the past, looks faint and far. They leave their trace indeed, these strong feelings of the heart; their faded relics may sometimes be awakened to life again; they

do not leave us exactly what we were, but still they leave us.

And there is no respect in which this is more sadly felt than in the case of pious feelings and holy resolutions. We can yet remember, perhaps, the warm and happy emotions of Communion seasons long ago; the eagerness of our first choice of Christ as our souls' portion; the warm and confident resolutions which we thought would never yield, that hereafter we should give ourselves entirely to Him; and it seemed easy then to renounce the world, to set the affections on things above; and life, which is really a long thing, with great power to wear down the keenest feelings and the strongest resolutions, seemed in that early flush only the short passage and portal to Eternity. We say nothing now as to whose fault it is, or whether it be anybody's fault, that it is so; but surely, in the case of many, the cold hearts of to-day contrast sadly with those hours of sacred elevation; and the growing worldliness of spirit, which we feel it so hard to keep down, is not like that early choice of heaven and of immortality. We often think sadly of those whose goodness was like the morning cloud and the early dew, which soon pass away. We sometimes fear lest we have been deluding ourselves with the belief that we were better and safer than we ever have been, and mourn for the soul-refreshing views, the earnest purpose, the warm affections of the days when we first believed in Christ.

Now there is no doubt that it is possible to carry such reflections too far. No doubt, by the make of our being, as we grow older, we grow less capable of emotion; and our choice of Christ may be just as strong, and our religious convictions as deep, though they less frequently than once thrill the heart, and stir the depths of feeling. Religion in the soul, after all, is a matter of fixed choice and resolution, — of principle rather than of feeling; and it would be very wrong if any old believer thought, that, because he now no longer feels so deeply, perhaps, on a Communion Sunday, he is therefore falling away from the attainments of former years. It is only with him that the lamp of all feeling is burning lower, — that the heart is less easily stirred; but still the choice of heaven may be as fixed, and the faith in Jesus as deep as ever. Do not dishearten and vex yourselves, my believing friends, in trying to awaken emotion which no longer comes. The still subdued light of the autumn twilight is as beautiful in its season as the blaze of the summer day. And the calm, thoughtful mood in which the old man covers his face as he bends over the white cloth, befits as well the calm Feast of Remembrance as do the young believer's

tears.

And yet it remains a great and true principle that, in the matter of Christian faith and feeling, that which lasts longest is best. This indeed is true of most things. The worth of anything depends much

upon its durability, upon the wear that is in it. A thing that is merely a fine flash and over, only disappoints. It is not one bright hour that makes a fine day; it is the equable continuance of the cheerful light that makes it. It is not the gaudy annual we value most, but the steadfast forest-tree. The slight triumphal arch, run up in a day, may flout the soberlooking buildings near it, but they remain after it is gone. And our Blessed Saviour, in the text, acknowledges the truth of this great principle. He tells his disciples that they, as branches of Himself, the living Vine, were to bear fruit, to bring forth much fruit: "Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples." And what is meant by fruit, and much fruit, every one feels at once; for the analogy between the fruit of a tree and the life and conduct of a man is too plain to need any tracing. But even fruit, and much fruit, was not enough for the Saviour's desire and God's glory. The fairest profession for a time, the most earnest labors for a time, the most ardent affection for a time, would not suffice. And so the Redeemer's words are, mark them well, - "I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit; and that your fruit should remain."

No doubt, brethren, the disciples to whom Christ addressed these words had a work to do beyond that which can be allotted to any of us. They had to found the Christian Church; and it was a matter of