pidity, and wicked mismanagement in childhood have turned one of the words which make the name of that Blessed One, into a name of fear. But, brethren, if we did but get rid of our ignorant fancies, if we did but see the truth of the case, we should feel that there is something so kindly, something so homely and sympathizing and dear, about that precious Holy Spirit, that surely, if He did but set right our sinful hearts, we never could think of Him but with perfect love and confidence, with that perfect love which casteth out unworthy fear. And what kindliness, what consideration, are in the very name by which the Saviour calls Him: "The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost!" What a view of an unutterable love and patience is in that name when you think it is a name of God! "The Comforter!" One who will not be impatient at our little griefs, and at the poor way in which we bear them; One who will condescend, from the great movements and concerns of the universe, to think of all the little cares and sorrows of a poor human being, — of a feeble woman, or a little child, or a poor struggling anxious man with his weight of care and toil,- things that many another man would not take the trouble of listening to; One who will sit down by us in our sorrow, and whisper consoling thoughts into our ear, yea, carry His blessed peace into our very heart, that peace which the world cannot give, that peace of God which passeth all understanding! Think, brethren, of a

Being who, in all the glory of Godhead, yet chooses for His special resort the darkest dwellings and the saddest hearts, all that He may convey His own strong consolation and gracious cheer; not despising our little troubles, and how little, we might blindly think, must they seem to Him; entering into them all with unfeigned sympathy; bearing with our fretfulness and our murmurings; not scolding us for grieving, or hardly telling us it is no matter; not ordering us to cease to mourn, but comforting us as one whom His mother comforteth, leading the wandering, rebellious soul gently back, and sanctifying through all!

And that, my friends, that is the fashion in which we ought to think about the Holy Ghost, the Blessed Spirit of God. No doubt, He does many things besides comforting. He regenerates us, and makes us new creatures in Christ; He convinces us of sin, and enables us to believe in the Saviour; He sanctifies us day by day, making us in the end meet for glory; He begins, in short, our better life, and carries it on to its perfection; He teaches us to pray, and breathes true devotion into our hearts; yet it is meet and right that, with all this, we should worship and seek Him by His gracious name of Comforter. It is not an unworthy thing to call Him by that name, whereby Christ called Him, nor to think of Him, for a little, in that character. Now, brethren, think of a human being who should devote himself to going about from house of sorrow to house of sorrow, all to

comfort; who never would hear of a mourning heart, among rich or poor, but he set himself to console it, and that without the faintest suspicion of intrusiveness or fussiness; who had such a charm about him, through his tender heart and his kind face and his gentle persuasive voice, that he would in time win his way to the confidence of the most hard and repellent and self-contained, and make them feel he was their friend, and get them to talk out to him all their burdened heart; whom no fretfulness nor sullenness could weary ; whom no sorrow nor grief could long withstand without being lightened and hallowed; oh, what a heavenly mission would that man's be! You would not be afraid of a man like that! And surely, if you feel aright, you will feel nothing but love and confidence towards One who is all that and a thousand times more, and whose name and nature and work are set before us in words that should come home so warmly to sorrowful human hearts as the blessed, kindly, sympathizing Holy Ghost, the great and good Comforter!

And now, my friends, I wish that we may rest for a little while in the contemplation of this great truth, that the Holy Spirit is the Comforter, that we may see how far this truth will enable us to understand and to love as we ought this Third Person in the Godhead. May He Himself, Spirit of all light and truth, order that all that is said may be said truly and worthily!

And, first, when we speak of the Holy Spirit as the

Comforter of Christ's people, see what this implies as to His knowledge of us, and of all our circumstances. My friends, before any one can comfort you, he must not only know you, but must know you well. He must know what sorrow or trouble it is that is pressing upon you; he must know so much about your nature and your affairs as to be able to understand how it is that that sorrow weighs on you so heavily; and what is the particular kind of feeling it awakes in you; and what the thoughts and remembrances are that come most bitterly across you as you look round or look back. You know that the very kindest heart and the very best intentions will not enable any one to offer you real comfort unless he knows and understands you well; nay, that the lack of power to understand you may cause the best intentioned human being so to speak and so to act towards you as only to increase your grief instead of relieving it. Yes, it is a sad sight to see an injudicious, meddling, wellmeaning, ignorant person trying to offer consolation to a mourning heart. And think, then, my friends, how intimately and thoroughly the great Comforter, who can comfort when no one else can, must know you and yours! Let us speak humbly, brethren; but I cannot but say that not the name Creator, not the name Redeemer, seems to convey the idea of such thorough knowledge of us and of all about us as the name of Comforter! For the Comforter, to do His work aright, must know a great many very little

things about us, must make Himself well acquainted with all those little things about them which mourners and sufferers are so ready to tell us about, and which are apt to be wearisome to even really kind people, perhaps to almost all but those who have passed through the like experience themselves. He must know all those thoughts and feelings within you, in your days of sorrow, which you do not tell to another, but yet which go so far to make up the sum of your real inward life. The very shade of feeling with which you hear of the blighting of your fondest hopes, or with which you bend over the dead face of one who is very dear to you, or with which you turn away from the home of your early love, all those things which you know words are so vain to convey to others, all those things He knows. You may be sure he understands you, and what you feel, —— as strangers do not and cannot, -as even those who are not strangers often most imperfectly do. There is no one, none, who is so at home under your roof, who is so thoroughly versed in all your circumstances, your anxieties, your feelings, as the Blessed Spirit of God. When you look back, in seasons of sorrow, over your pilgrimage hitherto; when you turn over the faded letters in which past years are embalmed; when you read some record that wakens up those departed days, and that makes the old time. come over you; then be sure of this, that, little as most of those you know can understand your thoughts