that he should renounce self as the ruler of his spirit, and that he should take Christ instead. And when he said, "Let him take up his cross daily," his words imply, not that the Christian is to make a cross for himself according to his own fancy, but rather that he should lift and carry that particular cross which the Lord hath laid on him for that day, whether it be the ridicule of his companions, or the loss of his profits, or the persecution of his enemies. And while he is bearing that, he is to think of Jesus, and seek to follow him, who, "when he was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not, but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously."

Ah! my brethren, we who have begun the Christian life already know what this means; for though, as John Newton used to say, "the first stage of Christian experience is one of joy and peace," it is also true, as the same great and good man was wont to affirm, that "the second is one of conflict." The earnest believer very soon discovers that his life is to be a fight, and Christ here would prepare him beforehand, so that when it comes he may not be tempted to run away. If Jesus "pleased not himself" in order that he might save us, we are to give up self-pleasing and self-seeking in order that we may serve him. If he endured the cross, despising the shame, in order that he might deliver us, we are to take up our cross in order that we may honor him. And when we look upon our trials thus, they are more easily borne.

It is told of Charles Simeon, of Cambridge, that in the early days of his ministry there, he was assailed with such ridicule and scorn by the enemies of evangelical truth, that he was almost tempted to give up his post, and retire to some spot where he could escape their attacks. But just at that time, when walking in the gardens of one of the colleges, he came in his Greek Testament to the verse which reads thus: "They laid hold of one Simeon of Cyrene, and him they

compelled to bear his cross." In this Simeon he saw himself, and so with joy he took the after-onsets of his adversaries, for he saw in them the cross he was carrying for Christ. Let us learn from his example, and take with patience, nay, with gladness, these hardships which come upon us for our allegiance to Christ. Only let us see that it is for Christ, and not for our own glory, or self-conceit, or evil temper, that we are called to suffer, and then the nails of our cross lose all their sharpness.

But some one may say, "I will take care of myself. If the following of Christ entails all these things upon me, they may follow him who will; I will take another course." Yes, but then, what will be the issue? The Christian's warfare comes first, and then he has his reward, and that is everlasting. Your enjoyment comes first, and then you have your punishment, and that is eternal. To seek to save yourself from present hardship thus, is to incur at length everlasting misery, for he that loveth his life thus shall lose it; and oh, the dreadful loss! "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" The world can not satisfy our infinite spiritual longings, for "God has made us for himself, and our souls are restless, until they rest themselves in him." Nay, even if the world could content the heart, the soul will outlast it, for the day is coming when the world and all that is therein shall be burned up; but even then the spirit of each man shall be immortal as God himself. Woe's me! at that day for him whose only treasure is the world. For then it will be too late to obtain the true riches, and the loss will be irreparable. The loss of the soul! The loss of the soul! It is not the end of being; it is the end of well-being, for it is the eternal severance of the soul from God.

Who that has read can ever forget those weird sentences of Richter which Carlyle has translated in one of his articles,

and in which he depicts the utter misery of a soul groping through outer darkness in search of a rest that will not come, sending out its longings ceaselessly, like blazing rockets signaling distress, in the midnight of its despair, and crying evermore, "O God! O God! where is thine infinite bosom that I might rest myself thereon?" And even these sentences to which I have referred, but can not quote, are but a feeble description of the immortal misery of a soul that is without God. Oh, is it for this that you are buying the world's happiness to-day? I have seen many a foolish bargain made on earth, but none so infinitely foolish as this. To give for a few years of an enjoyment which yields no substantial delight all your felicity for eternity! You are purchasing your earthly comfort and sinful pleasures at too dear a price.

If Jesus gave his blood for your soul, why should you sell it for a darling sin, or put it in jeopardy to save yourself from a little hardship? You talk of self-denial as if it were a dreadful thing; but our self-denial is nothing to yours. You deny yourselves the pleasures of holiness, which are enduring; we deny ourselves the pleasures of sin, which are evanescent. You deny yourselves the approval of conscience and the assurance of God's favor; we deny ourselves remorse with its gnawing anguish, and fear with its horrible forecastings. You deny yourselves that peace at death which springs from the persuasion that to depart is to be with Christ, which is far better; we deny ourselves a thorn-filled pillow on our death-beds. You deny yourselves the glad invitation, "Come, ye blessed; inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," we deny ourselves the withering malediction, " Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." The path of Christ for me! Even if it lead through Calvary, it ends in a crown of glory that fadeth not away.

A

VIII.

ON THE HOLY MOUNT.

MATTHEW Xvii., 1–9; MARK ix., 2-10; LUKE ix., 28–36.

BOUT eight days after the conversation between

Christ and his apostles which formed the subject of our last discourse, and while yet their minds were earnestly engaged with the startling information which he had given. them concerning his sufferings and death, the Lord took Peter and James and John apart with himself, and led them up "into a high mountain." To these three of his disciples the Saviour was drawn by a peculiar attraction; so that when he had any special privilege to bestow, he generally chose to confer it upon them. Thus they were selected to be the witnesses of the resurrection of the daughter of Jairus ;† and they were honored to go farthest with him into Gethsemane.‡

It is as vain to ask for the reason of this preference as it is to inquire why, out of these three, one was known as "the disciple whom Jesus loved," and was permitted to lean upon his bosom. There were doubtless good grounds for the selection in both cases; but whether it is to be accounted for by the supposition that these chosen ones had more in them in common with the Master than the other nine, or to be referred to the absolute sovereignty of the Lord Jesus, it is not for us to say.

* Matthew says six days; but the reason of the difference between him and Luke is plain. He reckons both the day from, and the day to, which he is calculating. Luke gives the number of the intervening days. † Mark v., 37. Matt. xxvi., 37.

The place to which he led them has usually been identified with Mount Tabor; but there seem to be insuperable objections to such an opinion. Our Lord was at the time of Peter's confession, and the conversation already alluded to, in the region of Cesarea Philippi; but Tabor is in the south-east of Galilee, and there is no record of any journey intervening between the incidents referred to and the Transfiguration; while the narrative of Mark* makes distinct mention of a departure thence, and a journey through Galilee immediately subsequent to the descent from the mount. Besides, as Ritter has said,† "The historical data which we possess show that the summit of Tabor was employed without any intermission between the times of Antiochus the Great, B.C. 218, and the destruction of Jerusalem under Vespasian, as a stronghold, and was by no means the scene of peace and solitude whither one would flee anxious to escape the turmoil of the world."

We are, therefore, constrained to lay aside the tradition which, taking the word "apart" in the narrative as qualifying the mountain, rather than the persons who went up to it, has designated Tabor as the scene of this wonderful manifestation of celestial glory; and we would connect it with some one of the many peaks of Hermon in the neighborhood of Cesarea Philippi. Hanna has given us the following account of a personal inspection of the locality: "Standing upon the height which overlooks Cesarea Philippi, I looked around upon the towering ridges which Great Hermon, the Sheikh of the Mountains, as the Arabs call it, projects into the plain. Full of the thought that one of these summits on which I gazed had in all probability witnessed

*Mark ix., 30.

+ "Comparative Geography of Palestine," vol. ii., p. 313. I am indebted for the quotation to Trench's "Studies on the Gospels," p. 192.