answered, "Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." And Jesus said, "Feed my sheep." There were whole volumes of tender mercies in those words. It was as if he had said, "Let the dead past bury its dead; the future calls thee!"

So in the reproof of the Saviour there is always a promise of better things. I am like a boy at school with a slate before me, trying with knit brows to do a difficult sum in addition. The Master asks, "How are you getting on?" I tearfully show him my slate full of errors, saying "It's all wrong; what shall I do?" He rubs it out and says, "Don't be discouraged : try again." Blessed be his name for the provision which he has made for blotting out our sins! And blessed be his name for that "Try again!" He is not "a hard man." He does not "break the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax." He does not cherish the memory of our past misdeeds but "casts them behind his back" and promises to remember them no more against us. Let us take him at his word and start afresh. This is the secret of the Christian life, to "forget the steps already trod and onward urge our way."

He comes, moreover, to renew his covenant with us. What is that covenant? "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life." It takes two to make a covenant. "The party of the first part" offers the crown; but "the party of the second part" must so run as to obtain it. And when Christ asks us to renew our covenant with him, he offers therewith all the strength and courage and equipment necessary to the keeping of it. He brings our armor with the call to battle: the girdle of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation, the sandals of the preparation of the gospel of peace, the shield of faith wherewith we shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God. And having thus harnessed us for all the trials and responsibilities of life, he bids us "withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.” If we fail, under such circumstances, it is not his fault but ours; for we can do all things in him that strengtheneth us.

He comes, still further, to manifest his presence: as he said, "If a man love me he will keep my word; and my Father will love him; and we will come unto him and make our abode

with him." Here is a promise of companionship all along the way. It has one condition affixed to it, namely, "If a man love me." A great "if" with immeasurable hopes and disappointments flowing out of it! Could we but realize his constant presence what Christians we would be! It is never I alone who address myself to an appointed task; but Christ and I. It is never I alone who lift the burden of trial and sorrow; but Christ and I. It is never I alone who confront the adversary in the close grapple of temptation: but always Christ and I. Say not, "Who shall ascend into heaven to bring Christ down?" or "Who shall descend into the abyss to bring him up?" O dearest Friend, closest of companions, thou art ever beside us!

It is thus that Jesus visits us, knocking and pleading to come in. His arms are laden with loving kindnesses. He wants nothing but to make our life worth living and heaven worth striving for. Shall he enter? Not unless we open the door. Shall we let him in?

A man's heart is his castle. Reason and Will are two mighty bolts by which it is fastened even against God. He addresses himself to the reason, saying, "Come, now, and let us reason together; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." But suppose our intellectual powers are convinced, what then? Though the upper bolt be drawn, the lower bolt holds fast. We may yield a mental assent to all the arguments and entreaties of divine grace and yet be unreconciled with God: for, in the last reduction, the stubborn will must yield or God cannot come in. There lies the trouble. "Ye will not come to me that ye may have life.”

It is difficult to imagine how God could have created a man in his own likeness and after his image without endowing him with a sovereign will. He might have made a graven image or a mannikin; but this would not have been a child of God. It is obvious that the possession of a sovereign will carries with it the power of disobedience. In this we are differentiated from all the lower orders of life. The stars of heaven obey God. The fowls of the air and the beasts of the forest and the fishes of the sea all yield to his behest; but man

has the power to say, "I will not." It thus appears that the token of our divine birthright is the danger signal of our destiny. The same endowment that brings us into filial relation with the Father involves the possibility of an awful revolt and infinite departure from him. If, therefore, God would have access to my soul he must stand there and knock and abide my decision. It is written of him that he will not "turn aside the right of a man." If he draw me, he must draw me with "the cords of a man.'

But why should the man in the closed house-a sinner, eating his heart out with shame and misgiving-refuse to admit the gracious Son of God? Oh, surely there must be some misunderstanding here! He comes to sup with us! The feasts of Vitellius have gone into history. It was not an uncommon thing for him to spend on a single banquet the revenues of an entire province. His table was furnished with lampreys from distant seas, with nightingales' tongues and peacocks' brains and all manner of rare delicacies. Those were famous feasts; but they were nothing to those which the Son of Man proposes to furnish for the delectation of all who will open unto him. Here is water from the King's well, wine from the King's vineyard, apples and pomengranates from the King's orchard. Here is the joy of pardon, "Son, thy sins be forgiven thee." Here is "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." Here is "the hope that maketh not ashamed." Here are all the consolations of the heavenly grace; and here is the benignant presence of the King of Kings shining like a benediction upon all.

But what a wonder is here: "If any man will open unto me!" Who shall explain that if? In one of Doctor Arnot's letters he says that, hearing of the distress of a poor widow who was to be evicted for non-payment of rent, he took with him one evening a sum of money and knocked at her door. He thought he heard a sound of shuffling feet and a turning of the window blind, but, as his repeated knockings were unanswered, he went his way. The next morning he came again, and, on his mentioning his previous visit, the woman cried, "Oh, minister, was that you? I heard the knock; but I supposed it was my landlord coming to dispossess me." Did we

but know the goodness in the heart of Him who stands waiting at our door we surely would not exclude him. It is written, "God sent not the Son into the world to judge the world; but that the world should be saved through him." Salvation is the gift he brings us. Why then this attitude toward Him? Hark! The voice is pleading still: "Behold, I stand and knock; if thou wilt open unto me I will come in and sup with thee."

Knocking, knocking; what, still there?
Waiting, waiting, grand and fair!

Yes, the piercèd hand still knocketh;
And, beneath the crownèd hair,
Beam the patient eyes so tender

Of thy Saviour waiting there.

What say you? Let gratitude unbolt the door. Let love cry, "Welcome, thou kindest of friends, thou most sovereign of kings, thou only Saviour! come in and sup with me!"

CONCLUSION

WE HAVE seen him. The question now is, "What shall we do with this Jesus which is called the Christ ?"

There he stands! You and I and each for himself must say whether he shall be our Christ or not. It is cowardice to be convinced of the truth and still unwilling to close in with it. Postponement is rejection. Not to decide is to decide not. Opportunity is responsibility: and opportunity is here and now.

To hide our faces from him is the only unpardonable sin: unpardonable in the necessity of the case, because it closes the only door that has ever been opened out of sin into salvation. To accept him is to lay everything at his feet and to knit our destiny with his in spiritual and eternal life.

And what then? Eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which await us! "Now are we children of God, and it is not yet made manifest what we shall be. We know that, if he shall be manifested, we shall be like him, for we shall see him even as he is,"

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