of Christianity. This is its peculiar adaptation to our wants and weaknesses. Christianity does not tell us we are corrupt, in order to insult our pride, or to wound our selfishness-it does not point out our ignorance, in order to cast down every hope and to sink us at once into despondency. Its severest announcements, its harshest statements have about them a character of greatness and generosity. They abase in order to lift up; they tell of depravity, in order to entreat us to seek renovation; they speak to us of guilt, in order to endear to us the great sacrifice; they tell of bankruptcy and of ruin, in order to induce us to receive gratuitously durable riches and joy; they convict us of ignorance, in order to render sacred and beautiful, "the wisdom which cometh from above." They remind us of withered hopes, and of wrecked expectations, in order to bring within our eager pursuit, blessings and enjoyments which never fade. "I am meek and lowly in heart," that is, "I can sympathise with your weakness, as well as condemn your guilt; I can remember you are but dust, while I forget every previous insult and transgression; I long to make you happy, and to discover to you the liberal character of God. Let no conviction of previous ignorance, no fears of previous guilt, induce you to remain at a distance from me; I am kind, compassionate, and munificent. Con traction of heart belongs not to me. I came to seek and to save. I came to throw a veil over the past, and to prepare you for abiding felicity. I am meek and lowly in heart. I can | stoop to the lowest want; expiate the darkest crime; instruct the grossest ignorance, and heal the worst disease. Of me it was emphatically foretold, that I should never break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax." Before generosity and compassion such as this, who shall retain his pride, or stand afar off in despondency and grief? How suited is all this liberality to the ruined, yet still, alas! selfsufficient character of mankind. 3. But once more, YOU FOR, MY YOKE IS EASY, AND MY BURDEN "TAKE MY YOKE UPON IS LIGHT." The yoke of sin and of the world is hard and galling. Vanity, remorse and destruction, is the recompense to which they lead. "The wages of sin is death," but the yoke of Christ is honourable and productive. No one serves him and is ultimately neglected or despised. Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." And in the very proportion in which allegiance to Christ is manifested and matured even on earth, in that proportion is a measure of joy communicated to the soul. "Draw nigh unto God, and he will draw nigh unto you," is the rule of grace and mercy upon which God acts. VOL. II, L He brings all his infinite resources to bear upon our penury and weakness. He satisfies the soul with substantial blessing, so that "in keeping of his commandments there is great reward." And thus, "his burden is light;"" a light burden truly," says the good St. Bernard, "which supports him who bears it." "I have looked," he adds, "through nature, to find out a resemblance of this, and I seem to have found the shadow of a resemblance in the wings of a bird, which are borne of the creature, but yet support him in his flight towards heaven. In truth, to bear the Lord's burden, is to be permitted to cast it together with ourselves, into the arms of omnipotence and grace." "Cast thy burden upon the Lord and he will sustain thee;""my grace is sufficient for thee, and my strength is made perfect in your weakness." How light in truth is this burden when thus imposed of God. My brethren, are any of you then sensible of the worth of this invitation, and are you more or less disposed to receive it? Are any of you conscious that no arm but that of Christ, can ultimately shield you from the assaults of perpetual evil? Are any of you conscious that as offenders against God, you are lost and ruined, and can find safety only in the sacrifice of the cross? Is any one of you anxious to come to Christ, and to find rest in the peace of his gospel? Every thing within and around, warns you to delay not to take his yoke, and to bear his burden! What have been the fruits of sin and of worldliness, which you have already reaped, what but vexation and vanity? and what fruits yet remain to be culled, save those of everlasting toil and perdition? Very soon will the delusion of life burst before you, and you will stand bereft even of that which you now seem to have! Oh, when these anticipations sadden the soul; when the awful notices of eternity break in and frown upon your path, how well to have a treasure laid up, where ruin and wretchedness can never approach! How well to have a part in the salvation of Christ and to repose beneath the shadow of his love! Listen then again and again, to this voice of encouragement, and come to him for rest! Listen to the accents of his kindness, and believe the magnitude of his grace. Those who are united to him are safe for ever. They may confidently meet the struggles of the present world, and extract real good from every dispensation of apparent evil! They may ask the same question with the apostle, and yield the same triumphant answer, "who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through him that |