sufferings He was content to endure, it seems absurd to mention, as bearing any remote comparison, any contradiction to which we can be exposed. The words of the text were written in a time of severe persecution, under which many had denied the faith. Yet the Apostle seems to think any persecution short of the infliction of martyrdom as scarcely deserving of compassion. "For," he

adds, "ye have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin." Yet for us no less than for them that sacrifice was offered. For us Christ bore the bitter pangs, and hid not His face from shame and spitting. "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities." And what do

we for Him? How little a thing turns us aside. from following Him. Not the threat of imprisonment or tortures or death, but the fear of a jest, a contemptuous look, a silent expression of disapproval.

I have said enough as to the duty of not being afraid of undeserved shame for doing what you know to be right; but I must say a word in conclusion as to the duty of bearing deserved shame. For often does the fear of deserved shame keep those who have gone wrong from retracing their steps. Either they persevere in their course, and in spite of their conscience strive to justify it, or in the attempt to hide their misconduct they add to their sin. And yet if they would but believe it,

how easy is the way by confession to forgiveness. God's forgiveness they need not doubt of obtaining, since He is ever ready to receive back repentant wanderers from His fold. And men's forgiveness is also not difficult to get when penitence is real. It is hard even for an offended person to keep resentment against one who owns that he has been in the wrong and strives to atone for his offence: so that by manly confession and willingness to accept the shame which is the deserved penalty of wrong-doing, the shame is quickly made to pass into honour. Take care then lest what keeps you back from confession may not be despair of finding love and forgiveness after confession, but the knowledge that confessing your sin without forsaking it would be a mockery, and that you cannot yet resolve to abandon it. If so, beware lest in shrinking from shame you fall into deeper shame. Does to lose the praise of men seem terrible to you? What is it to lose the praise of Him whose praise only is worth having? What will it be when those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall arise, to wake to shame and everlasting contempt? What will it be, if in the day when the secrets of all hearts shall be made manifest, He whose name you have been ashamed to confess before men, and whose will you have despised and refused to obey, is ashamed of you?

X

THE DENIAL OF PETER

"When Jesus beheld him, He said, Thou art Simon the son of Jona: thou shalt be called Cephas, which is, by interpretation, a stone."-JOHN i. 42.

THE text relates at full length what St. Mark and St. Luke had briefly indicated in the words "Simon He surnamed Peter," "Simon, whom He also named Peter." We learn thus that the name Peter, by which we habitually know the Apostle, was not his original name, but a title given him by his Master. And we learn further, that this title was not (as a reader of St. Matthew's Gospel might possibly imagine) given at a late period when the ardent disciple, outrunning the rest in his discernment of his Master's true character, had done something to merit a title of honour. We are told that it was conferred on his very first enrolment as a disciple. It expressed then the view of his character taken by Him who could discern the hearts, who knew what was in man. This disciple was a Rock-man.

What should we expect from such a title ? Firmness, steadiness, stability. We should expect to hear of a calm resolute man on whom implicit reliance might be placed, who would be sure to stand unshaken, however others wavered. But I suppose this would be the last epithet that a student of the life of Peter would apply to him. We find him ardent, eager, impulsive, but easily discouraged. The relation which St. Matthew gives of Peter's walking on the sea affords a really typical representation of this Apostle's character. To see his Master, to long to be with Him, to scorn danger, to feel confident that in his Master's presence he must be safe; all this is his first impulse. But when he actually feels the strength of the boisterous wind, and the tossing of the raging waves, his courage suddenly gives way. And all through his life we have these alternations of confidence and failure. Among the Apostles he was bold to make the first confession of belief in the Messiahship of Jesus, and so was rewarded with the promise that on this Rock Christ would build His Church. Yet immediately after words of commendation so strong that they have given rise in the Christian Church to the very loftiest ideas as to the extent of the privileges conveyed, Peter incurs an equally strong rebuke, and is addressed by his Master in the words "Get thee

behind Me, Satan, for thou art an offence unto Me." A later history equally presents to us an alternation of confidence and cowardice. He tells his Lord: "Although all men shall be offended because of Thee, yet will I never be offended. Though I should die with Thee, yet will I not deny Thee. Why cannot I follow Thee ? I will lay down my life for Thy sake." The hour of trial comes, and at first his faith is strong. There are but two swords in his little company, and a great multitude armed with swords and staves comes against them. Yet he hesitates not to draw his sword and strike in his Master's defence. But when his Lord disowns his resistance, and does not, as he had expected, supernaturally render it effective, his courage sinks at once. He sees Jesus led off by His enemies, to all appearance a helpless captive, and he follows in painful anxiety to see what the miserable end would be. Then all of a sudden he finds that he has brought himself into danger, and the lie springs to his lips by which he hopes to escape. And having once involved himself in denial, the pertinacity of those who recognised him forces him to plunge deeper and deeper down the path of shame.

A still later history displays the same unsteadiness of character. The question which then