recognized who belong to the Lord. It is not thus, "that Christian, faithful worship and natural poetic agitation are only varied vibrations of one and the same æolian harp, but touched merely by different breaths of the same air." The difference between the one and the other is not merely a difference of form, but of origin and nature.

"But Elisha telleth the King of Israel the words that thou speakest in thy bed-chamber!" What honourable testimony for the prophet! In a certain sense, we ought to be able to speak, in a similar manner; of every minister of the Church of God, who wishes to make himself a true priest. For it is not enough that he explains the principles of the doctrine of his Church in their proper conception, or is capable of adequately establishing their intimate connexion and combination, upon the authority of biblical passages; he must also be able to declare what you speak in your bed-chamber; that is, he must be acquainted with the deepest secrets of your heart, so that you sit under his sermon as under a conductor, his words penetrating like lightning within you, and you hardly able to recover from the trembling astonishment with which you are filled at his knowledge of the slightest emotions of your soul, and the most latent consciousness of your heart's conceptions. Behold, this really characterizes the man as one who is not only acquainted with the end, but also with the road to that end. By this it is shewn, that he himself lives therein, and that his principles are founded upon a sure basis; hence we know his calling to the guidance of souls to be a divine calling. A just exposition of the sacred word is to a certain extent possible even to the unregenerate; a full exposition of the secret workings

of the human heart, the natural and the regenerated, is alone taught by the Spirit from above.

When Benhadad hears that to Elisha is to be ascribed the failure of his enterprise, he exclaims, his brow darkened as with a threatening tempest, "Go and spy where he is, that I may send and fetch him!" Thus, then, the campaign is against one, but with respect to the prophet there is a great acknowledgment involved in it, and a practical admission that he has an important weight to throw into the scale of the fortune of war. When God wishes to distinguish and honour his people, their enemies must also help to form their wreaths of glory, although, in doing so, they may fancy they are entwining for them crowns of thorns. To this order issued by the Syrian, may be compared the bitter spite with which, to the present hour, a wicked unbelieving world ceases not to make war against the peaceful in the land; for if those opposed in truth are only, as is often said, a mere handful of ignorant mortals and fanatic wretches, scarcely worthy of remark, why are they so unceasingly attacked, and so much wit, art and craft called into service to destroy them? Let them therefore be left in peace, or at most, let those who are of a different creed express their difference by a dignified separation from them. But by the manner and form in which they are at present opposed, a suspicion is naturally excited that the assailants feel themselves annoyed in the world by those people; that their carnal peace is endangered by them; that they find themselves judged and condemned in their God-forgetful levity by their holy gravity, and perceive in them witnesses and accusers, who to-day or to-morrow may prove to be something more than troublesome.

"Go and spy where he is, that I may send and fetch him!" Thus spoke Benhadad. This sounds assuredly royal, but it is full of madness and blindness. What does the Gentile picture to himself in a prophet, when he imagines that if he only has him in his hands, he is also sure of having the prophet's power in his net? Can the living God be also taken prisoner, and bound in chains? For what Elisha is capable of doing, he is enabled to do through him; and God is not limited to any one instrument in working his will, a thousand others stand ready to act as substitutes for the one destroyed. Senseless war, that which made against the servants of the Almighty! A storm of straw against flames of fire-a rush of waters against a mountain of granite! He attacks the Lord himself who attacks his people; and whither the attack leads has been amply shown by a history of six thousand years. But the mad war continues to rage to this hour nevertheless. Fury runs away with the reason of our opponents, and renders them deaf to the voice of history. They hate the light, which reflects upon their darkness, and are blindly forced onwards to this gulf of fire. They seek the destruction of the divine kingdom, and find in that kingdom the giant rock against which they split for ever.

III.

Let us now quit the enemy's camp. Another more refreshing scene awaits us. History now transplants us to Dothan, a small mountain town of Samaria. It is about the hour of midnight, and the whole country around lies sunk in the deepest silence. Only in the forest beneath, at the foot of the mountain, a rustling sound becomes more and more audible. This proceeds from the Syrian host, which has learnt that Dothan

contains the prophet who has defeated their plan. At the command whispered forth to them, they form their camp around the small town, as silently as possible, in order to demand, at break of day, the delivering up of Elisha, and which they are prepared to enforce sword in hand, by means of scaling ladders. We will quietly await and see what the morning will produce, which indeed we may with all possible ease of mind. Let us meantime try to gain an entrance into the house where dwells "the doomed man," the persecuted, the heavily threatened man. The house is lofty and adjoins the city wall, with its upper story projecting over. From its windows the eye looks down upon the hill, and beyond it rests upon the open country around. Doubtless it is the hospitable dwelling of a believer, which at that period might be expected to be found in every town and village in Israel. From the situation of the house against the wall, it is to be presumed, as was also the case with that of Rahab in Jericho, that it did not belong to the most distinguished buildings of the place. The honoured house has now received us. Ah, hush, hush! What peace, what happiness do I not feel while in it! Is it not likewise so with you, beloved? If not, it would indeed be no good sign. It is true, the furniture around us is but poor, and the walls present only a bare, tasteless appearance. Perhaps you prefer the purple, the rich and the stately. My taste is of quite an opposite nature. Spiritual beauty in my eyes goes before everything. I love the modest brilliancy of a tabernacle of God amongst the children of men; I am charmed with the unfading wreaths of remembrance therein, reminding of greetings, of surprises and supports, with which he yesterday and to-day still shows himself,

and oh, the heavenly air of true love and brotherhood, how refreshing is that! How peaceful it breathes! O, here is Bethel and Bethania! Here it breathes around

me like soft echoes of eternal Sabbath bells.

But see, we have here a small book: the Psalms of David, the immortal lays of the night! And yonder is a parchment bearing upon it the history of the kingdom, the history of the miracles of God to his people, as written for the faithful for their lasting comfort, by the Holy Spirit, by the hand of Moses and other prophets ! And under this roof the golden thread of that history is being further spun. We find ourselves in the centre of the chain of the revelations of God, which meet together in the book of life, which are to serve the people of the earth as an everlasting restoration. And am I not to feel comfortable and at home here, where heaven is open, and life, moving in a higher region, already mirrors forth images of the eternal home?

We now open the door of a small chamber. Behold, there reposes the threatened man in soft slumbers. Step in gently, for his sleep appears to be calm and sweet, uninterrupted by anxious dream or scene of terror. A heavenly peace rests like moonlight upon his brow. Sleeping too, the man reposes in God. In the midst of sleep, "the promises of his Master breathe like heavenly harptones around his believing soul. You look around in his room anxiously, to see whether or not he may have at his command, for his defence, a sword, or at any rate a shield and breast-plate. But no, nothing of that sort is visible. You only find a pilgrim's staff leaning against the wall. His sword is the word, his armour is his faith. You think, perhaps, that you ought not to let him sleep, and feel it your duty to awaken him with