which our fellow-men have no right to judge us-for in all these things a regard for the will of God alone can rightly influence and determine us. Tell me not how a man deports himself on some great occasion, when all eyes are upon him ; but let me know his conduct in the private and obscure performances of ordinary duty. There is a sense in which common piety-piety about common things-is much rarer and greater than uncommon piety. Tell me not of his regularity and activity in the public sanctuary; if I am to judge of his character, let me hear the testimony of his closet. Tell me not of his heroism on some grand and foreseen emergency; let me know how he meets the trifling occurrences which take him by surprise, which give him no time to reflect or to prepare, but which yet incessantly flatter his selfishness, or else enter into conflict with it. As a test of character, it matters little how splendid a man's contribution may be to benevolent objects, it matters every thing whether he practises self-denial or sacrifice in order to make it. As a test of character, it may amount to little to say that he appears to be in earnest for the salvation of the world—is he quietly, regularly, and unostentatiously seeking, in addition, the salvation of his own family?

Brethren, besides the sphere definitely marked out by duty, there is a large outlying sphere left open to the operation of Christian motive; and it is in this higher and outer region that character proclaims itself-there, where the eye of man cannot pierce, where the judgment of man has no right to intrude, and where the Christian himself has nothing to guide his course by but the consideration of what is most likely to benefit man and to glorify God. Here piety luxuriates without restraint, and feels itself (if I may say so) "put on its honour." Here Christian heroism forms its noblest plans, and devises its most liberal things. Here a large-hearted Paul, leaving other and lesser souls to contend about their rights in meats and drinks, thinks only of what will be best for his weaker brethren; takes for his generous

motto, "not seeking mine own profit, but the profit of many, that they may be saved." And here Christian gratitude, deeply conscious that its best efforts fall far below its sense of obligation, aims to gather up all the fragments of life, that nothing be lost, and to lay the whole as an oblation on the altar of God; instead of looking on verbal prayer and praise as sufficient, regards them only as momentary and passing indications of what should be an habitual state of mind; instead of supposing that God is worshipped only on the knees, aims to convert daily labour into an act of devotion, and eating and drinking into a means of honouring God, and life itself into a hymn of praise.

3. Reminding us, next, of the dignity of the Christian life-since everything the Christian does, as a Christian, is related to the glory of God. Complain not of the humiliations of life; occasion is given you to associate its lowliest acts with all that is grand and imperishable in the kingdom of Christ. As if He were the nerve-the great sympathetic nerve-over which all the sufferings of His people pass, He assures them that they cannot receive the slightest wound of which He does not instantly feel the smart. In His description of the final judgment, He represents himself as applauding the least act of holy benevolence as an act performed to himself, and as resenting every slight offered to His people as a violence done to His own nature. There is not a single voluntary act concerning which He will not say, "Ye did it unto Me," or "Ye did it not unto Me." So that, as He sits on the throne of judgment-the centre of the congregated world—every act will be seen like a line pointing directly to Him, in homage or in enmity, and terminating upon Him. Thus, nothing terminates on itself—nothing terminates short of the throne of God-everything travels on till it reaches that point, and there it waits for judgment. And yet how little do we think of this! How prone are we to think and speak of our actions as if they existed just so long as we happen to think of them, and no longer-as if

they operated only just as far as we can easily and visibly trace their effects, and no farther-as if they concerned only the persons, the human beings, immediately interested, and no others—as if, forsooth, God were not interested more than all other beings in the universe put together. For in every action we perform, there is one or other of His universal laws to which that action renders homage, or which it tramples under foot--yes, one of the great laws on which His government rests-one of the pillars of His throne.

A poor widow casts two mites into the temple-treasury; and if the Saviour had not graciously noticed it, man would have accounted it the merest trifle. But his noticing the act did not make it important. He noticed it because it was important. It would have been quite as important, had he never so noticed it. And one of His objects in noticing it was to teach us this to assure us that every such act, whether noticed or not on earth, is both noticed and recorded in heaven-that He receives it as a tribute of affection to himself—accounts himself enriched by it--and will certainly distinguish and applaud it before an assembled world. A grateful penitent anoints His head with precious ointment; and by His arrangement, the deed has ever since. filled the Church with its rich perfume. A persecutor goes forth to punish only, as he thinks, a few insignificant Christians at Damascus; but "to smite a saint on earth is, as it has been said, to create a sensation in heaven;" and, accordingly, a voice from the excellent glory inquires, "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" Penitence drops its first tear in some obscure nook; and "I say unto you, there is joy in heaven"-joy which thrills through entire principalities and powers-joy which, beginning at the heart of God, the centre of all benevolence, circulates through all ranks of existences to the utmost circumference of the spiritual creation. An humble man goes forth to proclaim to a people the Gospel of Christ, and is refused a hearing; and no sooner has he vanished from their sight than his visit is forgotten. But

while they were yet chasing him from their presence, a hand was recording in heaven, "it shall be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment than for that people." He proceeds to another people, and His message is received; but all that appears to have taken place is, that a man believing himself to be the bearer of a message from heaven, has found an attentive audience. But, saith Christ, in receiving him as my messenger, "they have received me, and in receiving me, they have received Him that sent me. A willing people erect a house for the worship of God-and though the world may pass it unnoticed by-it becomes in His eye another point of friendly communication between earth and heaven-another place for His throne-another gate of heaven. See, brethren, how every object, action, and event in the Christian Church is complicated with all that is great in the universe-bound up with the glory of God-see how, whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, you may do all to the glory of God.

SERMON V.

EXHORTATION TO CHRISTIAN EXCELLENCE.

PHIL. iv. 8. "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true — honest (or venerable)-just-pure-lovely-of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."

ON reading this remarkable language, one is almost unconsciously led to exclaim, "how noble and ennobling a system is the Gospel of Christ-how tranquilly does it sustain a comparison with every other system-how effectually does it eclipse-how gloriously transcend them all!"

For poor humanity has had its systems-systems of philosophy, morality, and religion-systems which, for a time, resounded through the world—systems which were to bring heaven down to earth, or to raise earth to an equality with heaven-it has had them by hundreds, if not by thousands.

Of all these, however, the system of Plato, I suppose, by aiming at what it called the true, the beautiful, and the good, is to be regarded as approaching the nearest to the surpassing excellence of the Gospel. To that system the apostle is supposed, by some, to refer in the text for it professed to be composed chiefly of whatsoever things were true and valuable in the various systems which had preceded it. But this character he claims in an infinitely higher sense for Christianity. For even if that human system had ascertained the true, the beautiful, and the good, how could it have demonstrated that the true was not the false? how could it have embodied the beautiful, and made it visible? how could it have induced mankind to aim at the good, or to practise the useful? Where were its motives? what were