ally, the rock will be Christ, the rock of salvation, and he clefts his bleeding wounds, in which rests, like a love, every believing and accepted soul. Of a truth it as found a safe retreat. Not so you, who are firmly ested in the dry brambles of your own righteousness. Behold the branches will be burned in the fire of the judgment, and oh! the poor bird with them. Not ye, who depend upon your own piety, and expect salvation from it. Oh! believe it, that in the day of judgment this will be counted as stubble, which is cast into the oven, but not as a ground of your redemption. But our dove has found a Zoar, not in herself; for there she could only discover what merited condemnation; nor in her own works and feelings; of these she could only exclaim, Unclean! unclean! She was not so foolish as to dream of gathering grapes on the shores of the Dead Sea. She found her rest, and the certainty of her salvation and future bliss, not in herself, but in the wounds of Christ, in his bleeding merits and atoning death. Her mind was so staid and governed that she knew herself just before God, not on account of the new life that had sprung up within her, but only on account of the blood-shedding of her surety. And this is the foundation which is firm and abiding, when every thing else sinks and passes away.

Of him, whose salvation is firmly settled on the perfect satisfaction rendered by his Surety, whose hopes centre in the merits of the true Paschal Lamb, and who esteems himself secure in Christ alone of him, it may well be said: Behold a dove in the clefts of a high rock, and in the secret places of the stairs! No prince

was ever so securely entrenched behind his fortifications, his ramparts and walls, as this dove. Moses is a skilful archer, and sends out curses; but here he may leave his skill; no ban can disturb, no curse affect, this dove. For her silence of night reigns on Sinai and Ebal, and the wild flames of fire are quenched in the blood of the Redeemer. The subtilty of Satan is foiled; he may indeed go about the rock, and roar, but he cannot seize the dove, without swallowing the rock itself, in which she dwells. Should even her love decline, and her faith glimmer as an expiring light; should her zeal cool, and her heart become steril, as a barren sand; yet is she safe, for, God be thanked! her faith, her zeal, her love, are not her resting place; her stronghold and her fortress are alone the blessed wounds of Christ. In this frame she is ever fair in the sight of God; and though miserable herself, she shines as a crown of gold in the hand of the Lord. And supposing the Eternal would consume her, as a devouring flame; in this palace she is stronger than the anger of God, and conquers the Eternal in his wrath. I therefore call upon you all, in the words of Jeremiah, O ye that dwell in Moab, leave the cities, and dwell in the rock, and be like the dove that maketh her nest in the sides of the hole's mouth.'

II. We have now contemplated the dove in her secure retreat, after she has renounced all self-dependence, and, despairing of herself, has taken shelter in the clefts of the rock, the rock of Christ's merits. Let us now listen to the voice of the Bridegroom. My dove,'

he cries, my dove in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is lovely.' What does the Lord mean by this address; how is he to be understood; and what secret motive may have prompted it? To me it appears thus:

The Lord will see the countenance of his dove and hear her voice, because her voice is sweet, and her countenance is comely. By her countenance is intended the golden plumage, the imputed righteousness of of Christ, in which she is adorned; the new life in God, the new creature within her, the man of light for whom the world is become too narrow; the faith with which she is filled, the peace and tranquillity which take possession of her pardoned soul; it is her illumination, her holy longing and desires, and her inward, constant, spontaneous resistance to all darkness and sin-all these belong to the countenance of the dove. Her voice is the incense of prayer and supplication, of praise and adoration, kindled by the Spirit's sacred fire. This is the voice the Lord wishes to hear, and this is the countenance he desires to behold. Do you wonder that he should desire this? Is it not said (Psalm civ. 31.) 'The Lord shall rejoice in his works?" He is himself the perfection of beauty, and his pleasure is to behold himself, and all that has proceeded from him. The Seraphim around his throne are his delight, because he sees in them, as in a mirror, his own glorious image. But he rejoices still more to view it in the dark ground of the sinner's soul.

The morning stars proclaim his praise, even in their silence; and they display with astonishing lustre the purity of him who made them. But of all his works

none so loudly declare his praise, as the work of grace in the sinner's heart. With inexpressible glory his power and love are there exhibited. Imagine, a sinner worthy only of condemnation, becoming at once holy ; as David in the same breath declares: I am poor and needy, I am holy; a servant of the wicked one transformed into a dear child of God: a creature of darkness becomes light, like the sun, because its light is come; dead wood begins to put forth and bud; and in miry clay begins to be formed the image of the Godhead. What a manifestation of the glory of the Lord! How grand, how amazing an exhibition of the glory of his name, of his infinite power and inscrutable mercy!

And shall the Lord not find pleasure in the work of his hand? He desires to see this work, and rejoice to contemplate himself in it. Shew me thy countenance and let me hear thy voice; for thy voice is sweet, and thy countenance is comely." But why 'shew me thy countenance?' why 'let me hear thy voice?' What does the Bridegroom mean? Is not the Bride always looking towards him? Does she not live and move in him? Does he not behold her every moment? Why then this call to shew her countenance? And does he not hear her voice, in the inmost recesses of her soul? This voice is never silent to his ear. This is indeed all true. Yet, sometimes it pleases the Lord to require a more prominent display of what his grace has wrought in the secret sanctuary of the soul: partly, that those in whom

6

his work is carried on may attain to clearer perceptions of it, and be incited to more elevated devotion; partly to furnish a glorious spectacle to angels, and to the world, and to magnify his holy name in their eyes. With this view he leads his people from under the grateful shadow of the palm-trees of Elim, again into the wilderness; and calls them forth from tranquility and calm contemplation, into the tumult of life, into various perplexities, into night and gloom, where the light which his grace has transfused into them has opportunity to prove its existence, and to shine forth conspicuously. The severe trial which he suspended over Abraham, and the command, Go, and sacrifice thy son whom thou lovest'-what was it but the same call, though disguised, My dove, shew me thy countenance, and let me hear thy voice.' And, behold, the voice of this dove was sweet, and her countenance comely! The conflict with Jacob for what purpose did it take place? That it might evince, how powerful the strength of the Lord is in our weakness; and what courage, what invincibility, he can infuse into a dismayed and fearful heart; and the countenance of this dove also was most comely in its appearance. Therefore know, all ye spiritual doves; if Jesus lead you in a similar way, if thick darkness encompass, or the fires of temptation rage around; if he rouse you from your security, and causes Laban to assail you from behind, and Esau from before; he only seeks in this way an opportunity, partly himself, to behold the work of grace within you, and partly to discover it to yourself and others; and in this gloomy dispensation the call goes forth to you, 'My dove in the