Chapter II: Part 2

It is only when the love of God is shed abroad in the heart, that this animating desire to "please Him" can exist. In the holy bosom of Jesus, that love reigned paramount, admitting no rival--no competing affection. Though infinitely inferior in degree, it is the same impelling principle which leads His people still to link enjoyment with His service, and which makes consecration to Him of heart and life its own best recompense and reward. "There is a gravitation," says one whose life was the holy echo of his words, "in the moral as in the physical world. When love to God is habitually in the ascendant, or occupying the place of will, it gathers round it all the other desires of the soul as satellites, and whirls them along with it in its orbit round the center of attraction." (_Hewitson's Life._) Till the heart, then, be changed, the believer can not have "this testimony that he _pleases God_." The world, self, sin--these be the gods of the unregenerate soul. And even _when_ changed, alas that there should be so many ebbings and flowings in our tide of devotedness! Jesus could say, "I do _always_ those things that please the Father." Glory to God burned within His bosom like a living fire. "Many waters could not quench it." His were no fitful and inconsistent frames and feelings, but the persistent habit of a holy life, which had the one end in view, from which it never diverged or deviated.

Let it be so, in some lowly measure with us. Let God's service not be the mere livery of high days,--of set times and seasons; but, like the alabaster box of ointment, let us ever be giving forth the fragrant perfume of holiness. Even when the shadows of trial are falling around us, let us "pass through the cloud" with the sustaining motive--"All my wish, O God, is to please and glorify Thee! By giving or taking--by smiting or healing--by the sweet cup or the bitter--'Father, glorify thy name!'" "I don't want to be weary of God's dealing with me," said Bickersteth, on his death-bed; "I want to glorify Jesus in them, and to find Him more precious." Do I shrink from trials--duties--crosses--because involving hardships and self-denial, or because frowned on by the world? Let the thought of God's approving countenance be enough. Let me dread no censure, if conscious of acting in accordance with _His_ will. Let the Apostle's monitory word determine many a perplexing path--"If I please men, I am not the servant of Christ."

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Sixteenth Day.

GRIEF AT SIN.

"Being grieved for the hardness of their hearts."--Mark, iii. 5.

On this one occasion only is the expression used with reference to Jesus--(what intensity of emotion does it denote, spoken of a sinless nature!)--"He looked round on them _with anger_!" Never did He grieve for Himself. His intensest sorrows were reserved for those who were tampering with their own souls, and dishonoring His God. The continual spectacle of moral evil, thrust on the gaze of spotless purity, made His earthly history one consecutive history of grief, one perpetual "cross and passion."

In the tears shed at the grave of Bethany, sympathy, doubtless, for the world's myriad mourners, had its own share (the bereaved could not part with so precious a tribute in their hours of sadness), but a far more impressive cause was one undiscerned by the weeping sisters and sorrowing crowd; His knowledge of the deep and obdurate impenitence of those who were about to gaze on the mightiest of miracles, only to "despise, and wonder, and perish." "_Jesus wept!_"--but His profoundest anguish was over resisted grace, abused privileges, scorned mercy. It was the Divine Artificer mourning over His shattered handiwork; the Almighty Creator weeping over His ruined world; God, the God-man, "grieving" over the Temple of the soul, a humiliating wreck of what once was made "after His own image!"

Can we sympathize in any respect with such exalted tears? Do we mourn for sin, our _own_ sin--the deep insult which it inflicts on God--the ruinous consequences it entails on ourselves? Do we grieve at sin in _others_? Do we know any thing of "vexing our souls," like righteous Lot, "from day to day," with the world's "unlawful deeds," the stupid hardness and obduracy of the depraved heart, which resists alike the appliances of wrath and love, judgment and mercy? Ah! it is easy, in general terms, to condemn vice, and to utter harsh, severe, and cutting denunciations on the guilty: it is easy to pass uncharitable comments on the inconsistencies or follies of others: but to "_grieve_" as our Lord did, is a different thing; to mourn over the hardness of heart, and yet to have the burning desire to teach it better things; to hate, as He did, the sin, but, like Him also, to love the _sinner_!

Reader! look specially to your own spirit. In one respect, the example of Jesus falls short of your case. He had no sin of His own to mourn over. He could only commiserate others. _Your_ intensest grief must begin with _yourself_. Like the watchful Levite of old, be a guardian at the temple-gates of your own soul. Whatever be your besetting iniquity, your constitutional bias to sin, seek to guard it with wakeful vigilance. Grieve at the thought of incurring one passing shadow of displeasure from so kind and compassionate a Saviour. Let this be a holy preservative in your every hour of temptation, "How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?"

Grieve for a perishing world--a groaning creation fettered and chained in unwilling "subjection to vanity." Do what you can, by effort, by prayer, to hasten on the hour of jubilee, when its ashy robes of sin and sorrow shall be laid aside, and, attired in the "beauties of holiness," it shall exult in "the glorious liberty of the sons of God!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Seventeenth Day.

HUMILITY.

"He riseth from supper, and laid aside His garments; and took a
towel and girded Himself. After that He poureth water into a basin,
and began to wash the disciples' feet."--John, xiii. 4, 5.

What a matchless picture of humility! At the very moment when His throne was in view; angel-anthems floating in His ear; the hour come "when He was to depart out of this world;" possessing a lofty consciousness of His peerless dignity, that "He came _from_ God and went _to_ God;" THEN "Jesus took a towel, and girded Himself, and began to wash the disciples' feet!" All heaven was ready at that moment to cast their combined crowns at His feet. But the High and the Lofty One, inhabiting eternity, is on earth "as one that serveth!" "That _infinite stoop_! it sinks all creature humiliation to nothing, and renders it impossible for a creature to _humble_ himself."--(_Evans_).

Humility follows Him, from His unhonored birthplace to His borrowed grave. It throws a subdued splendor over all He did. "The poor in spirit,"--the "mourner,"--the "meek,"--claim His first beatitudes. He was severe only to one class--those who looked down upon others. However He is employed; whether performing His works of miraculous power, or receiving angel-visitants, or taking little children in His arms, He stands forth "clothed with humility." Nay, this humility becomes more conspicuous as He draws nearer glory. Before His death, He calls His disciples "_Friends_;" subsequently, it is "_Brethren_," "_Children_." How sad the contrast between the Master and His disciples! Two hours had not elapsed after He washed their feet, when "there was a strife among them which should be the greatest!"

Let the mental image of that lowly Redeemer be ever bending over us. His example may well speak in silent impressiveness, bringing us down from our pedestal of pride. There surely can be no labor of love too humiliating when _He_ stooped so low. Let us be content to take the humblest place; not envious of the success or exaltation of another; not, "like Diotrephes, loving preëminence;" "but willing to be thought little of;" saying with the Baptist, with our eye on our Lord, "He must increase, but I must decrease!"

How much we have cause to be humble for! the constant cleaving of defilement to our souls; and even what is partially good in us, how mixed with imperfection, self-seeking, arrogance, vain-glory! A proud Christian is a contradiction in terms. The Seraphim of old (type of the Christian Church, and of believers) had six wings--_two_ were for errands of love, but "with _four_ he _covered_ himself!" It has been beautifully said, "You lie nearest the River of Life when you _bend_ to it; you can not drink, but as you _stoop_." The corn of the field, as it ripens, bows its head; so the Christian, as he ripens in the Divine life, bends in this lowly grace. Christ speaks of His people as "lilies"--they are "lilies of _the valley_," they can only grow in the shade!

"Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God." "Go" with what Rutherford calls "a low sail." It is the livery of your blessed Master; the family badge--the family likeness. "With this man will I dwell, even with him that is _humble_." Yes! the humble, sanctified heart is God's _second Heaven_!

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Eighteenth Day.

PATIENCE.

"He was brought as a lamb to the slaughter."--Isa. liii, 7.

How great was the _patience_ of Jesus! Even among His own disciples, how forbearingly He endured their blindness, their misconceptions and hardness of heart! Philip had been for three years with Him, yet he had "not known Him!"--all that time he had remained in strange and culpable ignorance of his Lord's dignity and glory. See how tenderly Jesus bears with him; giving him nothing in reply for his confession of ignorance but unparalleled promises of grace! Peter, the honored and trusted, becomes a renegade and a coward. Justly might his dishonored Lord, stung with such unrequited love, have cut the unworthy cumberer down. But He spares him, bears with him, gently rebukes him, and loves him more than ever! See the Divine Sufferer in the terminating scenes of His own ignominy and woe. How patient!--"As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not His mouth." In these awful moments, outraged Omnipotence might have summoned twelve legions of angels and put into the hand of each a vial of wrath. But He submits in meek, majestic silence. Verily, in _Him_ "patience had her _perfect_ work!"

Think of this same patience with His Church and people since He ascended to glory. The years upon years He has borne with their perverse resistance of His grace, their treacherous ingratitude, their wayward wanderings, their hardness of heart and contempt of His holy word. Yet, behold the forbearing love of this Saviour of God! His hand of mercy is "stretched out still!"

Child of God! art thou now undergoing some bitter trial? The way of thy God, it may be, all mystery; no footprints of love traceable in the checkered path; no light, in the clouds above; no ray in the dark future. _Be patient!_ "The Lord is good to them that _wait_ for Him." "They that _wait_ on the Lord shall renew their strength!" Or hast thou been long tossed on some bed of sickness--days of pain and nights of weariness appointed thee? _Be patient!_ "I trust this groaning," said a suffering saint, "is not murmuring." God, by this very affliction, is nurturing within thee this beauteous grace which shone so conspicuously in the character of thy dear Lord. With Him it was a lovely _habit_ of the soul. With thee, the "tribulation" which worketh "patience" is needful discipline. It is _good_ for a man that he should both hope and quietly _wait_ for the salvation of God. Art thou suffering some unmerited wrong or unkindness, exposed to harsh and wounding accusations, hard for flesh and blood to bear? _Be patient!_ Beware of hastiness of speech or temper; remember how much evil may be done by a few inconsiderate words "spoken unadvisedly with the lip." Think of Jesus standing before a human tribunal, in the silent submissiveness of conscious innocence and integrity. Leave thy cause with God. Let this be the only form of thy complaint, "O God, I am oppressed; undertake Thou for me!"

"In patience," then, "possess ye your souls." Let it not be a grace for peculiar seasons, called forth on peculiar exigences; but an habitual frame manifested in the calm serenity of a daily walk;--placidity amid the little fretting annoyances of every-day life--a fixed purpose of the heart to wait upon God, and cast its every burden upon Him.

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Nineteenth Day.

SUBJECTION.

"As the Father gave me commandment, even so I do."--John, xiv. 31.

Jesus as God-man had omnipotence slumbering in His arm. He had the hoarded treasures of eternity in His grasp. He had only to "speak, and it was done." But, as an example to His people, His whole life on earth was one impressive act of subordination and dependence. At Nazareth He was "subject to His parents." There He remained in studied obscurity, occupying for thirty years a lowly hut, willing to continue in a state of seclusion, till the Father's summons called Him to His appointed work.

At His baptism, sinless Himself, He gives this reason for receiving a sinner's rite at a sinner's hands--"Suffer it to be so now, for thus it becometh Me to fulfill all righteousness." The same beautiful spirit of filial _subjection_ shines conspicuous amid His acts of stupendous power. "Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me; and I know that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which stand by, I said it, that they may believe that Thou has sent Me." Even among His own disciples His language is, "I am among you as He that serveth." With an act of submission He closed His pilgrimage and work of love. "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit."

What an example to us, in all this, is our beloved Lord! Surely, if _He_, "God only wise"--the Self-existent One, to whom "all power was committed;"--the Sinless One, never liable to err, on whom "the Spirit was poured without measure"--if _He_ manifested such habitual dependence on His heavenly Father, how earnestly ought _we_, weak, erring, fallible creatures, to seek to live every hour--every moment--as pensioners on God's grace and love, following in all things His directing hand! As the servant has his eyes on his master, or the child on its parent, "so should our eyes be on the Lord our God." Howsoever He speaks, be it ours with all docility to follow the voice, indorsing every utterance of providence, and every precept of Scripture, with our Lord's own words, "_This is the Father's will!_"

Beware of self-dependence. The first step in spiritual declension is this: "Let him that _thinketh he standeth_!" The secret of real strength is this: "_Kept_ by the _power of God_!"

How it sweetens all our blessings, and alleviates all our sorrows, to regard both as emanations from a loving Father's hand. Even if we should be, like the disciples of old, "_constrained_" to go into the ship; if all should be darkness and tempest, frowning providences--"the wind contrary;" how blessed to feel that in embarking on the unquiet element, "the Lord has bidden us!" Paul could not speak even of taking an earthly journey, without the parenthesis ("if the Lord will"). How many trials, and sorrows, and _sins_, would it save us, if the same were the habitual regulator of our daily life! It would lead to calm contentment with our lot, hushing every disquieting suggestion with the thought that that lot, with all that is apparently adverse in it, was _ordained_ for us. It would teach us not to be aspiring after _great_ things, but humbly to wait the will and purposes of a wise Provider; not to go _before_ our Heavenly Guide, but to _follow_ Him, saying, in meek subjection, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in things too high for for me ... my soul is even as a weaned child!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twentieth Day.

NOT RETALIATING.

"Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again."--1 Peter, ii. 23.

What a common dictate of the fallen and regenerate heart to resent and recriminate! How alien to natural feeling to answer cutting taunts, and meet unmerited wrong with the Divine method the Gospel prescribes--"Overcome evil with good!" It was in the closing scenes of the Saviour's humiliation, when, silent and unresenting, He stood "dumb before His shearers," that this beautiful feature in His character was most wondrously manifested; but it beams forth, also, for our imitation in the ordinary and less prominent incidents of His pilgrimage.

When He met Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, He found him clinging to an unreasonable prejudice--"Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" The severe remark is allowed to pass unnoticed. Overlooking the unkind insinuation, the Saviour fixes on the favorable feature of his character, "Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!" After His resurrection, He appears to His disciples. They were cowering in shame, half afraid to confront the glance of injured goodness. He breathes on them, and says, "Peace be unto you!" Peter was the one of all the rest who had most reason to dread estranged looks and upbraiding words; but a special message is sent to reassure that trembling spirit that there was no alienation in the unresentful Heart he had so deeply wounded; "Go and tell the disciples ... and _Peter_!" Even when Judas first revealed himself to his Lord as the betrayer, we believe it was not in bitter irony or rebuke, but in the fullness of pitying tenderness, that Jesus addressed him, "Friend, wherefore art thou come?" Tears and prayers were His only revenge on the city and scene of His murder. "Beginning at Jerusalem," was the closing illustration of a spirit "not of this world"--a significant parting testimony that in the bosom that uttered it retaliation had no place.

More than one of the disciples seem to have imbibed much of this "mind" of their Lord. "We owe St. Paul," says Augustine, "to the death of Stephen;" "they stoned Stephen ... and he kneeled down and cried with a loud voice, Lord! lay not this sin to their charge."

Take another example: The great Apostle of the Gentiles felt himself under a painful necessity faithfully to rebuke Peter in presence of the whole Church. He had _recorded_ that rebuke, too, in one of his epistles. It was thus to be handed down to every age as a permanent and humiliating evidence of the wavering inconstancy of his fellow-laborer. Peter, doubtless, must have felt acutely the severity of the chastisement. Does he resent it? He, too, puts on record, long after, in one of his own epistles a sentence regarding his Rebuker, but it is this--"Our _beloved brother_ Paul!"

Reader! when tempted to utter the harsh word, or give the cutting or hasty answer, seek to check yourself with the question, "Is this the reply my Saviour would have given?" If your fellow-men should prove unkind, inconsiderate, ungrateful, be it yours to refer the cause to God. Speak of the faults of others only in prayer; manifesting more sorrow for the sin of the censorious and unkind, than for the evil inflicted on yourselves. _Retaliate!_ No such word should have a place in the Christian's vocabulary. _Retaliate!_ If I cherish such a spirit towards my brother, how can I meet that brother in heaven?--"But ye have not so learned in Christ."

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-first Day.

BEARING THE CROSS.

"And He bearing His cross."--John, xix. 17.

When did Jesus bear the cross? Not that moment alone, surely, when the bitter tree was placed on His shoulders, on the way to Golgotha. Its vision may be said to have risen before Him in His infant dreams in Bethlehem's cradle; there, rather, its reality began; and He ceased not to carry it, till His work was finished, and the victory won! A _cloud_, of old, hovered over the mercy-seat in the tabernacle and temple. So it was with the Great Antitype--the living Mercy-Seat--He had ever a cloud of woe hanging over him. "He _carried_ our sorrows."

Reader! dwell much and often under the shadow of your Lord's cross, and it will lead you to think lightly of your own! If _He_ gave utterance to not one murmuring word, canst _thou_ complain? "If we were deeper students of his bitter anguish, we should think less of the ripplings of our waves, amidst His horrible tempest."--(_Evans._) The saint's cross assumes many and diverse shapes. Sometimes it is the bitter trial, the crushing pang of bereavement--desolate households, and aching hearts. Sometimes it is the crucifixion of sin, the determined battle with "lusts which war against the soul." Sometimes it is the resistance of evil maxims and practices of a lying world; vindicating the honor of Christ, in the midst, it may be, of taunt, and obloquy, and shame. And as there are different crosses, so there are different ways of bearing them. To some, God says, "put your shoulder to the burden; lift it up, and bear it on; work, and toil, and labor!" To others, He says, "Be still, bear it, and _suffer_!"

Believer! thy cross may be hard to endure; it may involve deep struggles--tears by day, watchings by night; bear it meekly, patiently, justifying God's wisdom in laying it on. Rejoice in the assurance that He gives not one atom more of earthly trial than He sees to be really needful; not one redundant thorn pierces your feet. In the very bearing of the cross for _His_ sake, there are mighty compensations. What new views of your Saviour's love! His truth, His promises, His sustaining grace, His sufferings, His glory! What new filial nearness; increased delight in prayer; an inner sunshine when it is darkest without! The waves cover you, but underneath them all, are "the everlasting arms!"

Do not look out for a situation _without_ crosses. Be not over anxious about "smooth paths;"--leaving your God, as Orpah did Naomi, just when the cross requires to be carried. Immoderate earthly enjoyments--unbroken earthly prosperity--write upon these, "_Beware!_" You may live to see them become your greatest trials!

Remember the old saying, "No cross, no crown." The sun of the saint's life generally struggles through "weeping clouds." One of the loveliest passages of Scripture is that in which, the portals of heaven being opened, we overhear this dialogue between two ransomed ones--"And one of the elders answered saying unto me, What are these which are arrayed in white robes, and whence came they? And I said unto him, Sir, thou knowest. And he said to me, _These are they which came out of great tribulation!_"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-second Day.

HOLY ZEAL.

"The zeal of Thine house hath eaten me up."--John, ii. 17.

"Zeal, is a principle; enthusiasm is a feeling. The one is a spark of a sanguine temperament and overheated imagination. The other, a sacred flame kindled at God's altar, and burning in God's shrine."--(_Vaughan._) Such was the holy, heavenly zeal of our Great Exemplar! His were no transient outbursts of ardor, which time cooled and difficulties impeded. His life was one indignant protest against sin;--one ceaseless current of undying love for souls, which all the malignity of foes, and unkindness of friends, could not for one moment divert from its course. Even when He rises from the dead, and we imagine His work at an end, His zeal only meditates fresh deeds of love. "Still His heart and His care," says Godwin, "is upon doing more. Having now dispatched that great work on earth, He sends His disciples word that He is hastening to heaven as fast as He can, to do another." (John, xx. 17).

Reader! do you know any thing of this zeal, which "many waters could not quench"? See that, like your Lord's, it be steady, sober, consistent, undeviating. How many are, like the children of Ephraim, "carrying bows"--all zealous when zeal demands no sacrifice, but "turning their backs in the day of battle!" Others "running well" for a time, but gradually "hindered," through the benumbing influences of worldliness, selfishness, and sin. Two disciples, apparently equally devoted and zealous, send through Paul, in one of his epistles, a conjoint Christian salutation--"Luke and Demas greet you." A few years afterward, thus he writes from his Roman dungeon--"Only _Luke_ is with me," "_Demas_ hath _forsaken_ me, having loved this present world!"

While zeal is commendable, remember the Apostle's qualification, "It is good to be zealously affected always in a _good_ thing." There is in these days much base coin current, _called_ "zeal," which bears not the image and superscription of Jesus. There is zeal for church-membership and party; zeal for creeds and dogmas; zeal for figments and non-essentials. "From such turn aside." Your Lord stamped with His example and approval no such counterfeits. _His_ zeal was ever brought to bear on two objects, and two objects alone--_the glory of God_ and _the good of man_. Be it so with _you_. Enter, first of all (as He did the earthly temple), the sanctuary of _your own heart_, with "the scourge of small cords." Drive out every unhallowed intruder there. Do not suffer yourself to be deceived. Others may call such jealous searchings of spirit "sanctimoniousness" and "enthusiasm." But remember, to be _almost saved_, is to be _altogether lost_!--to be zealous about every thing but "the one thing needful," is an insult to God and your everlasting interests!

Have a zeal for _others_. Dying myriads are around you. As a member of the Christian priesthood, it becomes you to rush in with your censer and incense between the living and the dead, "that the plague may be stayed!"

Be it yours to say, "Blessed Jesus! I am _Thine_!--Thine only!--Thine wholly!--Thine for ever! I am willing to follow Thee, and (if need be) to _suffer_ for Thee. I am ready at Thy bidding to leave the homestead in the valley, and to face the cutting blasts of the mountain. Take me--use me for Thy glory. 'Lord! what wilt Thou have me to do?'"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-third Day.

BENEVOLENCE.

"Who went about doing good."--Acts, x. 38.

"Christ's great end," says Richard Baxter, "was to save men from their _sins_; but He delighted to save them from their _sorrows_." His heart bled for human misery. Benevolence brought Him from heaven; benevolence followed His steps wherever He went on earth. The journeys of the Divine Philanthropist were marked by tears of thankfulness, and breathings of grateful love. The helpless, the blind, the lame, the desolate, rejoiced at the sound of His footfall. Truly might it be said of Him, "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me." (Job, xxix. 11.) All suffering hearts were a magnet to Jesus. It was not more His prerogative than His happiness to turn tears into smiles. One of the few pleasures which on earth gladdened the spirit of the "Man of sorrows" was the pleasure of _doing good_--soothing grief, and alleviating misery. Next to the joy of the widow of Nain when her son was restored, was the joy in the bosom of the Divine Restorer! He often went out of His way to be kind. A journey was not grudged, even if _one_ aching spirit were to be soothed. (Mark, v. 1; John, iv. 4, 5.) Nor were his kindnesses dispensed through the intervention of others. They were all personal acts. His own hand healed. His own voice spake. His own footsteps lingered on the threshold of bereavement, or at the precincts of the tomb. Ah! had the princes of this world known the loving-tenderness and unselfishness of _that_ heart, "they would not have crucified the Lord of Glory"!

Reader! do you know any thing of such active benevolence? Have you never felt the _luxury_ of doing good? Have you never felt, that in making _others_ happy, you make _your self_ so? that, by a great law of your being, enunciated by the Divine Patron and Pattern of Benevolence, "it is more blessed to give than to receive"? Has God enriched you with this world's goods? Seek to view yourself as a consecrated medium for dispensing them to others. Beware alike of penurious hoarding and selfish extravagance. How sad the case of those whose lot God has made thus to abound with temporal mercies, who have gone to the grave unconscious of diminishing one drop of human misery, or making one of the world's myriad aching hearts happier! How the example of _Jesus_ rebukes the cold and calculating kindnesses--the mite-like offerings of many even of His own people! "whose libation is not like His, from the brim of an overflowing cup, but from the bottom--from the _dregs_!"

You may have little to give. Your sphere and means may be alike limited. But remember God can be as much glorified by the trifle saved from the earnings of poverty, as by the splendid benefaction from the lap of plenty "The Lord loveth a _cheerful_ giver."

The nobler part of Christian benevolence is not vast largesses, munificent pecuniary sacrifices. "_He went about_ doing good." The merciful visit--the friendly word--the look of sympathy--the cup of cold water, the little unostentatious service--the giving without thought or hope of recompense--the kindly "considering of the poor"--anticipating their wants--studying their comforts; these are what God values and loves. They are "loans" to Himself--tributary streams to "the river of _His_ pleasure;" they will be acknowledged at last as such--"Ye did it unto _Me_."

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-fourth Day.

FIRMNESS IN TEMPTATION.

"Jesus saith unto him, Get thee hence, Satan."--Matt. iv. 10.

There is an awful intensity of meaning in the words, as applied to Jesus, "He _suffered_, being tempted!" Though incapable of sin, there was, in the refined sensibilities of His holy nature, that which made temptation unspeakably fearful. What must it have been to confront the Arch-traitor?--to stand face to face with the foe of His throne, and His universe? But the "prince of this world" came, and found "nothing in Him." Billow after billow of Satanic violence spent their fury, in vain, on the Living Rock!

Reader! you have still the same malignant enemy to contend with; assailing you in a thousand insidious forms; marvelously adapting his assaults to your circumstances, your temperament, your mental bias, your master-passion! There is no place where "Satan's seat" is not; "the whole world lieth in the Wicked one." (1 John, v. 19.) He has his whispers for the ear of childhood; hoary age is not inaccessible to his wiles. "_All this will I give thee_"--is still his bribe to deny Jesus and to "mind earthly things." He will meet you in the crowd; he will follow you to the solitude; his is a sleepless vigilance!

Are you bold in repelling him as your Master was? Are you ready with the retort to every foul suggestion, "Get thee hence, Satan"? Cultivate a tender sensitiveness about sin. The finest barometers are the most sensitive. Whatever be your besetting frailty--whatever bitter or baleful passion you are conscious aspires to the mastery--watch it, crucify it, "nail it to your Lord's cross." _You_ may despise "the day of small things"--the Great Adversary does _not_. He knows the power of _littles_; that little by little consumes and eats out the vigor of the soul. And once the retrograde movement in the spiritual life begins, who can predict where it may end? the going on "from weakness to weakness," instead of "from strength to strength." Make no compromises; never join in the ungodly amusement, or venture on the questionable path, with the plea, "It does me no harm." The Israelites, on entering Canaan, instead of obeying the Divine injunction of extirpating their enemies, made a hollow truce with them. What was the result? Years upon years of tedious warfare. "They were scourges in their sides, and thorns in their eyes!" It is quaintly but truthfully said by an old writer, "The candle will never burn clear, while there is a _thief_ in it. Sin indulged, in the conscience, is like Jonah in the ship, which causeth such a tempest, that the conscience is like a troubled sea, whose waters cannot rest."--(_Thomas Brooks_.)

"Keep," then, "thy heart with all diligence," or, (as it is in the forcible original Hebrew,) "keep thy heart _above all keeping_," "for out of it are the issues of life." (Prov. iv. 23.) Let this ever be your preservative against temptation, "How would _Jesus_ have acted here? would _He_ not have recoiled, like the sensitive plant, from the remotest contact with sin? Can _I_ think of dishonoring Him by tampering with His enemy; incurring from His own lips the bitter reflection of injured love, 'I am wounded in the house of my friends'?"

He tells us the secret of our preservation and safety, "Simon! Simon! Satan hath desired to have thee, that he might sift thee as wheat; _but I_ have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-fifth Day.

RECEIVING SINNERS.

"This man receiveth sinners."--Luke, xv. 2.

The ironical taunt of proud and censorious Pharisees formed the glory of Him who came, "not to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance." Publicans and outcasts; those covered with a deeper than any bodily leprosy--laid bare their wounds to the "Great Physician;" and as conscious guilt and timid penitence crept abashed and imploring to His feet, they found nothing but a forgiving and a gracious welcome!

"His ways" were not as "man's ways!" The "watchmen," in the Canticles, "smote" the disconsolate one seeking her lost Lord; they tore off her veil, mocking with chilling unkindness her anguished tears. Not so "the Chief Shepherd and Bishop of souls." "_This_ man _receiveth_ sinners"! See Nicodemus, stealing under the shadows of night to elude observation--type of the thousand thousand who in every age have gone trembling in their night of sin and sorrow to this Heavenly Friend! Does Jesus punish his timidity by shutting His door against him, spurning him from His presence? "He will not break the bruised reed, He will not quench the smoking flax!"

And He is still the same! He who arrested a persecutor in his blasphemies, and tuned the lips of an expiring felon with faith and love, is at this hour standing, with all the garnered treasures of Redemption in His hand, proclaiming, "Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out"!

Are we from this to think lightly of sin? or, by example and conduct, to palliate and overlook its enormity? Not so; sin, _as_ sin, can never be sufficiently stamped with the brand of reprobation. But we must seek carefully to distinguish between the offence and the offender. Nothing should be done on our part, by word or deed, to mock the penitential sighings of a guilty spirit, or send the trembling outcast away, with the despairing feeling of "_No hope_." "This man receiveth sinners," and shall not _we_? Does _He_ suffer the veriest dregs of human depravity to crouch unbidden at His feet, and to gaze on His forgiving countenance with the uplifted eye of hope, and shall _we_ dare to deal out harsh, and severe, and crushing verdicts on an offending (it may be a _deeply_ offending) brother? Shall we pronounce "crimson" and "scarlet" sins and sinners beyond the pale of mercy, when _Jesus_ does not? Nay, rather, when wretchedness, and depravity, and backsliding cross our path, let it not be with the bitter taunt or the ironical retort that we bid them away. Let us bear, endure, remonstrate, deal tenderly. Jesus _did_ so, Jesus _does_ so! Ah! If we had within us His unconquerable love of souls; His yearning desire for the everlasting happiness of sinners, we should be more frequently in earnest expostulation and affectionate appeal with those who have hitherto got no other than harsh thoughts and repulsive words. If this "mind" really were in us, "which was also in Him," we should more frequently ask ourselves, "Have I done all I _might_ have done to pluck this brand from the burning! Have I remembered what grace _has_ wrought, what grace _can_ do?"

"Brethren, if any of you do err from the truth, and one convert him, let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-sixth Day.

GUILELESSNESS.

"Neither was guile found in His mouth."--1 Pet. ii. 22.

How rare, and all the more beautiful because of its rarity, is a purely _guileless_ spirit! A crystalline medium through which the transparent light of Heaven comes and goes; open, candid, just, honorable, sincere; scorning every unfair dealing, every hollow pretension, every narrow prejudice. Wherever such characters exist, they are like "apples of gold in pictures of silver."

Such, in all the loveliness of sinless perfection, was the Son of God! His guilelessness shining the more conspicuously amid the artful and malignant subtlety alike of men and devils. Passing by manifold instances in the course of His ministry, look at its manifestation as the hour of His death approached. When, on the night of his apprehension, He confronts the assassin band, in meek majesty He puts the question, "Whom seek ye?" They say to Him, "Jesus of Nazareth." In guileless innocence, He replies, "I am He!" "Art thou the King of the Jews?" asks Pilate, a few hours after. An evasive answer might again have purchased immunity from suffering and indignity, but once more the lips which scorned the semblance of evasion reply, "Thou sayest!"

How He loved the same spirit in His people! "Behold," said He, of Nathanael, "an Israelite indeed, in whom is _no guile_!" That upright man had, we may suppose, been day after day kneeling in prayer under his fig-tree, with an open and candid spirit--

"Musing on the law he taught,
And waiting for the Lord he loved."

See how the Saviour honored him; setting His own Divine seal on the loveliness of this same spirit! Take one other example, when the startling, saddening announcement is made to the disciples, "One of you shall betray me;" they do not accuse one another; they attempt to throw no suspicion on Judas; each in trembling apprehension suspects only his own treacherous heart, "Lord, is it I?"

How much of a different "mind" is there abroad! In the school of the world (this "_painted_ world"), how much is there of what is called "policy," double-dealing!--accomplishing its ends by tortuous means; outward, artificial polish, often only a cloak for baseness and selfishness!--in the daily interchange of business, one seeking to over-reach the other by wily arts; sacrificing principle for temporal advantage. There is nothing so derogatory to religion as aught allied to such a spirit among Christ's people--any such blot on the "living epistles." "Ye are the light of the world." That world is a quick observer. It is sharp to detect inconsistencies--slow to forget them. The true Christian has been likened to an _anagram_--you ought to be able to read him up and down, every way!

Be all reality, no counterfeit. Do not pass for current coin what is base alloy. Let transparent honor and sincerity regulate all your dealings; despise all meanness; avoid the sinister motive, the underhand dealing; aim at that unswerving love of truth that would scorn to stoop to base compliances and unworthy equivocations; live more under the power of the purifying and ennobling influences of the gospel. Take its golden rule as the matchless directory for the daily transactions of life--"Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them."

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-seventh Day.

ACTIVITY IN DUTY.

"I must work the works of Him that sent me, while it is day; the
night cometh, when no man can work."--John, ix. 4.

How constant and unremitting was Jesus in the service of His Heavenly Father! "He rose a great while before day;" and, when His secret communion was over, His public work began. It mattered not to Him where He was: whether on the bosom of the deep, or a mountain slope--in the desert, or at a well-side--the "gracious words" ever "proceeded out of His mouth." We find, on one touching occasion, exhausted nature sinking, after a day of unremitting duty; in crossing, in a vessel, the Lake of Tiberias--"_He fell asleep_"! (Matt. viii.) He redeemed every precious moment. His words to the Pharisee seem a _formula_ for all, "Simon, I have somewhat to say unto _thee_"!

Oh, how our most unceasing activities pale into nothing before such an example as this! Would that we could remember that each of us has some great mission to perform for God, that religion is not a thing of dreamy sentimentalism, but of energetic practical action; moreover, that no trade, no profession, no position, however high or however humble in the scale of society, can disqualify for this life of Christian activity and usefulness! Who were the writers in the Bible? We have among them a King--a Lawgiver--a Herdsman--a Publican--a Physician! Nor is it to high spheres, or to great services only, that God looks. The widow's mite and Mary's "alabaster box of ointment" are recorded as examples for imitation by the Holy Ghost, while many more munificent deeds are passed by unrecorded. We believe that God says, regarding the attempt of many a humble Christian to serve Him by active duty, "I saw that effort, that _feeble_ effort to serve and glorify Me; it was the very _feebleness_ of it I loved!"

Did it never strike you, notwithstanding the _dignity_ of Christ, and the _activity_ of Christ, how little success comparatively He met with in His public work? We read of no _numerous_ conversions; no Pentecostal revivals in the course of His ministry. May not this well encourage in the absence of great outward results? He sets up no higher standard than this--"She hath done what she could." An artist may be _great_ in painting a peasant as well as a king--_it is the way he does it_. Yes, and if laid aside from the _activities_ of the Christian life, we can equally glorify God by _passive endurance_. "Who am I," said Luther, when he witnessed the patience of a great sufferer; "who am I? a wordy preacher in comparison with this great doer."

Reader! forget not the motive of our motto verse, "_The night cometh!_" Soon our tale shall be told; our little day is flitting fast, the shadows of night are falling. "Our span length of time," as Rutherford says, "will come to an inch." What if the eleventh hour should strike after having been "all the day _idle_"? A long lifetime of opportunities suffered to pass unemployed and unimproved, and absolutely _nothing_ done for God! A judgment-day come--our golden moments squandered--our talents untraded on--our work undone--met at the bar of Heaven with the withering repulse, "Inasmuch as ye did it _not_." "The time we have lost," says Richard Baxter, "can not be recalled; should we not then redeem and improve the little that remains? If a traveler sleep or trifle most of the day, he must travel so much the faster in the evening, or fall short of his journey's end."

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-eighth Day.

COMMITTING OUR WAY TO GOD.

"But committed himself to Him that judgeth righteously."--
1 Peter, ii. 23.

With what perfect and entire confidingness did Jesus commit Himself to his Heavenly Father's guidance! He loved to call Him, "My Father!" There was music in that name, which enabled Him to face the most trying hour, and to drink the most bitter cup. The scoffing taunt arose at the scene of crucifixion: "He trusted in God that He would deliver Him, let Him deliver Him!" It failed to shake, for one moment, His unswerving confidence, even when the sensible tokens of the Divine presence were withdrawn; the realized consciousness of God's abiding love sustained Him still: "My God! my God!"

How many a perplexity should we save ourselves by thus implicitly "committing ourselves," as He did, to God! In seasons of darkness and trouble--when our way is shut up with thorns, to lift the confiding eye of faith to Him, and say, "I am oppressed, undertake for me!" How blessed to feel that He directs all that befalls us; that no contingencies can frustrate His plans; that the way he leads us is not only _a_ "right way," but, with all its briers and thorns--_its_ tears and trials--it is _the_ right way!

The result of such an habitual staying ourselves on the Lord will be a deep, abiding _peace_; any ripple will only be on the surface--no more. It is the _bosom_ of the ocean alone which the storm ruffles; all beneath is a serene, settled calm. So "Thou wilt keep him, oh God, in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on _Thee_!"

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." I shall be content alike with what He appoints or withholds. I _can not_ wrong that love with one shadow of suspicion! I have His own plighted promise of unchanging faithfulness, that "all things work together for good to them that love Him!" Often there are earthly sorrows hard to bear;--the unkind accusation, when it was least merited or expected; the estrangement of tried and trusted friends, the failure of cherished hopes, favorite schemes broken up, plans of usefulness demolished, the gourd breeding its own worm and withering. "Commit thy cause and thy way to God!" We little know what tenderness there is in the blast of the rough wind; what "needs be" are folded under the wings of the storm! "All is well," because _all_ is from _Him_. "Events are God's," says Rutherford; "let Him sit at His own helm, that moderateth all."

Christian! look back on your checkered path. How wondrously has He threaded you through the mazy way--disappointing your fears, realizing your hopes! Are evils looming through the mists of the future? Do not anticipate the trials of to-morrow, to aggravate those of to-day. Leave the morrow with Him, who has promised, by "casting all your care on Him, to care for you." No affliction will be sent greater than you can bear. His voice will be heard stealing from the bosom of the threatening cloud, "Be still, and know that I am God!"

"_My Father!_" With such a word, you can stretch out your neck for any yoke; as with Israel of old, He will make those very waves that may now be so threatening, a fenced wall on every side! "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." "In _all_ thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Twenty-ninth Day.

LOVE OF UNITY.

"That they all may be one."--John, xvii. 21.

Surely there is nothing for which Christian churches have such cause to hang their harps on the willows, as the extent to which the Shibboleth of party is heard in the camp of the faithful--sectarianism rearing its "untempered walls" within the Temple gates!

How different "the mind of Jesus!" Sent "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel," He was never found disowning "_other_ sheep not of that fold." "Them also will I bring," was an assertion continually illustrated by His deeds. Take one example: The woman of Samaria revealed what, alas! is too common in the world--a total absence of all real religion, along with an ardent zeal for her sect. She was living in open sin; yet she was all alive to the nice distinction between a Jew and a Samaritan--between Mount Gerizim and Mount Zion: "How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, who am a woman of Samaria?" Did Jesus sanction or reciprocate her sectarianism?--did He leave her bigotry unrebuked? Hear His reply--"If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldst have asked of _Him_, and _He_ would have given thee!" _He_ would have allowed no such narrow-minded exclusiveness to have interfered with the interchange of kindly civilities with a stranger. Nay, He would have given thee, better than all, the "living water" which "springeth up to everlasting life!"

How sad, that when the enemy is "coming in like a flood"--the ranks of Popery and infidelity linked in fatal and formidable confederacy--that the soldiers of Christ are forced to meet the assault with standards soiled and mutilated by internal feuds! "Uniformity" there _may_ not be, but "unity," in the true sense of the word, there _ought_ to be. We may be clad in different livery, but let us stand side by side, and rank by rank, fighting the battles of our Lord. We may be different branches of the seven golden candlesticks, varying and diversified in outward form and workmanship; but let us combine in "showing forth the praises of Him" who recognizes, as the one true "churchmanship," fidelity in shining for His glory "as lights in the world." How can we read the 13th chapter of 1st Corinthians, and then think of our divisions? "How miserable," says Edward Bickersteth, "would an hospital be, if each patient were to be so offended with his neighbor's disease, as to differ with him on account of it, instead of trying to alleviate it!"

Ah! if we had more real communion with our Saviour, should we not have more real communion with one another? If Christians would dip their arrows more in "the balm of Gilead," would there not be fewer wounds in the body of Christ? "How that word '_toleration_' is used amongst us," said one who drank deeper than most, of his Master's spirit--"how we _tolerate_ one another--Dissenters _tolerate_ Churchmen, and Churchmen _tolerate_ Dissenters! Oh! hateful word! TOLERATE one for whom _Jesus_ died! _Tolerate_ one whom He bears upon His heart! _Tolerate_ a temple of the living God! Oh! there ought to be _that_ in the word which should make us feel _ashamed_ before God!"

"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."

Thirtieth Day.

NOT OF THE WORLD.

"I am not of the world."--John, xvii. 14.

In one sense it was _not_ so. Jesus did not seek to maintain His holiness intact and unspotted by avoiding contact with the world. He mingled familiarly in its busy crowds. He frowned on none of its innocent enjoyments; He fostered, by His example, no love of seclusion; He gave no warrant or encouragement to mortified pride, or disappointed hopes, to rush from its duties; yet, with all this, what a halo of heavenliness encircled His pathway through it! "I am from above," was breathed in His every look, and word, and action, from the time when He lay in the slumbers of guileless infancy in His Bethlehem cradle, until He said, "I leave the world, and go to my Father!" He had moved uncontaminated through its varied scenes, like the sunbeam, which, whatever it touches, remains as unsullied, as when it issues from its great fountain.

But though Himself in His sinless nature "unconquerable" by temptation--immutably secure from the world's malignant influences, it is all worthy of note, as an example to us, that He never unnecessarily braved these. He knew the seducing spell that same world would exercise on His people, of whom, with touching sympathy, He says, "_These_ are in the world!" He knew the _many_ who would be involved and ensnared in its subtle worship, who, "minding earthly things, would seek to slake their thirst at polluted streams!"