more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the scriptures be fulfilled that thus it must be?"

Oh, my friends, look to Him, the author and perfecter of all faith, all trust, all loyal daring, for the sake of duty and of God. Look at His patience. See how He endured the cross, despising the shame. See how He endured-how patience had her perfect work in Him-how in all things He was more than conqueror. What gentleness, what calmness, what silence, what infinite depths of Divine love within Him!-a heart which neither shame, nor torture, nor insult, could stir from its godlike resolution. When looking down from that cross He beheld none almost but enemies, heard no word but mockery. When those who passed by reviled Him, wagging their heads, and saying, "He saved others, Himself he cannot save," His only answer was a prayer for forgiveness for that besotted mob who were yelling beneath Him like hounds about their game. Consider Him, and then consider ourselves, ruffled and put out of temper by the slightest cross accident, the slightest harsh word, too often by the slightest pain-not to mention insults, for we pride ourselves in not bearing them. Try, my friends, if you can, even in the dimmest way, fancy yourselves for one instant in His place this day 1815 years. Fancy yourselves hanging on that cross-fancy that mocking mob below--fancy-but I dare not go on with the picture. Only think-think what

would have been your temper there, and then you may get some slight notion of the boundless love and the boundless endurance of the Saviour whom we love so little, for whose sake most of us will not endure the trouble of giving up a single sin.

And then consider that it was all of his own free will; that at any moment, even while He was hanging upon the cross, He might have called to earth. and sun, to heaven and to hell, "Stop! thus far, but no farther," and they would have obeyed Him; and all that cross, and agony, and the fierce faces. of those furious Jews, would have vanished away like a hideous dream when one awakes. For they lied in their mockery. Any moment He might have been free, triumphant, again in his eternal bliss, but He would not. He Himself kept Himself on that cross till His Father's will was fulfilled, and the sacrifice was finished, and we were saved. And then, at last, when there was no more human nobleness, no more agony left for him to fulfil, no gem in the crown of holiness which He had not won as his own, no drop in the cup of misery which He had not drained as His own; when at last He was made perfect through suffering, and His strength had been made perfect in weakness, then He bowed that bleeding, thorn-crowned head, and said, "It is finished. Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit." And so He died.

How can our poor words, our poor deeds, thank

Him? How mean and paltry our deepest gratitude, our highest loyalty, when compared with Him to whom it is due-that adorable victim, that perfect sin-offering, who this day offered up Himself upon the altar of the cross, in the fire of his own boundless zeal for the kingdom of God, His Father, and of His boundless love for us, His sinful brothers! "Oh! thou blessed Jesus! Saviour agonizing for us! God Almighty, who did make Thyself weak for the love of us! oh, write that love upon our hearts so deeply, that neither pleasure nor sorrow, life nor death, may wipe it away! Thou hast sacrificed Thyself for us, oh, give us the hearts to sacrifice ourselves for Thee! Thou art the Vine, we are the branches. Let thy priceless blood, shed for us on this day, flow like life-giving sap through all our hearts and minds, and fill us with thy righteousness, that we may be sacrifices fit for Thee. Stir us up to offer to Thee, O Lord, our bodies, our souls, our spirits, in all we love and all we learn, in all we plan and all we do, to offer our labours, our pleasures, our sorrows, to Thee; to work for Thy kingdom through them, to live as those who are not their own, but bought with Thy blood, fed with Thy body; and enable us now, in Thy most holy Sacrament, to offer to Thee our repentance, our faith, our prayers, our praises, living, reasonable, and spiritual sacrifices,-Thine from our birthhour, Thine now, and Thine for ever!"

SERMON XVII.

THE RESURRECTION.

"He is not here-He is risen."-LUKE, XXIV. 6.

WE are assembled here to-day, my friends, to celebrate the joyful memory of our blessed Saviour's Resurrection. All Friday night, Saturday, and Saturday night, His body lay in the grave; His soul was where, we cannot tell. St. Peter tells us that He went and preached to the spirits in prison— the sinners of the old world, who are kept in the place of departed souls-most likely in the depths of the earth, in the great fire-kingdom, which boils and flames miles below our feet, and breaks out here and there through the earth's solid crust in burning mountains and streams of fire. There, some say— and the Bible seems to say-sinful souls are kept in chains until the judgment-day; and thither they say Christ went to preach-no doubt to save some of those sinful souls who had never heard of Him. However this may be, for those two nights and day there was no sign, no stir in the grave where Christ was laid. His body seemed dead-the stone lay

still over the mouth of the tomb where Joseph and Nicodemus laid him; the seal which Pilate had put on it was unbroken; the soldiers watched and watched, but no one stirred; the priests and Pharisees were keeping their sham Passover, thinking, no doubt, that they were well rid of Christ and of His rebukes for ever.

But early on the Sunday morn—this day, as it might be in the gray dawn of morning there came a change—a wondrous change. There was a great earthquake; the solid ground and rocks were stirred. -the angel of the Lord came down from heaven, and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it, waiting for the King of glory to arise from His slumber, and go forth the conqueror of Death.

His countenance was like lightning, and His raiment white as snow; and for fear of Him those fierce, hard soldiers, who feared neither God nor man, shook, and became as dead men. And Christ arose and went forth. How he rose how he looked when he arose, no man can tell, for no man saw. Only before the sun was risen came Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, and found the stone rolled away, and saw the angels sitting, clothed in white, who said, "Fear not, for I know that ye seek Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen. Come, see the place where the Lord lay."

What must they have thought, poor, faithful