mistake, and must end in disappointment and in gloom. It is when the Cross is regarded-not for the purpose of getting rid of sin; but as a vision of peace, and of love, and of glory, presented to the mind. of the astonished believer, when he discerns that cross standing before him in his Christian path, and sees, as perhaps he never saw before, the fulness and the

freeness of His love who died upon the cross, the just for the unjust, to bring him to glory-it is then, reader, when Christ is seen "as the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world," when Jesus Christ is beheld in the agonies of his dying love, when the soul is full of the sight of Christ, and the vision of faith in Jesus is presented plainly and visibly to his soul, when the heart is thinking of Jesus, and

looking at Jesus, and wondering at the love of Jesus, and becoming quite overwhelmed with the preciousness of that Saviour's death, and becoming quite absorbed in the contemplation of his wondrous love-oh! it is then that that burden of sin drops off from his shoulders, and to his astonishment falls into the open sepulchre, and is for ever left behind. Thus does the believer lose his burden unexpectedly, when he was not thinking about it, when he was not anticipating the loss of it, when his mind was thinking of Jesus Christ, and thinking of Jesus only, and adoring Jesus, and admiring his love, and contemplating with wonder, and with awe, and with affection," the height, and depth, and length, and breadth of that love of God and of Christ which passeth knowledge." It is then that the burden rolls away from the conscience-stricken soul, as through faith the believer realizes the completeness of the Saviour's work.

Having tried to lose the sense of sin, and having failed to lose it, now, then, reader, give up that vain endeavour. No longer think about your sins, but think about the Saviour's love. Instead of looking at yourself, instead of trying to loosen those bonds which bind your soul to the remembrance of past iniquity, look away from yourself to that Lamb of God who died for the sins of the world, look to that cross of Calvary. And, as you look, if it be a look of faith, if it be a look which absorbs every other thought and feeling in the contemplation of the Redeemer's love, you will lose that burden. I know of no other way. I can point to no other means. I can tell you of no other remedy for the sense of sin.

Now mark the happy results which follow from the loss of this burden. Angelic visits are paid to the believing soul; Divine gifts are now vouchsafed to the waiting Christian. And what are these gifts— what are these happy endowments ?

One gift is the sense of Pardon, the full realization

of the remission of sins by the Saviour's blood, the listening to that voice which proclaims mercy even to the uttermost, and the erasing of the record of transgression from God's book, the casting all sin behind his back never more to come up in remembrance before Him, the whisper of that voice which announces love and peace, and which utters those blessed words: "Depart in peace; thy sins, which are many"-ah, how many! "thy sins which are many"-alas! the believer knows they are many; thy sins, which are many, are all, every one-not one left behind, not one forgotten to be forgiven-“ are all," every one of them, "forgiven." This is one of those gifts which come through faith in Christ-the sense of pardon. Oh! how sweet have you realized that gift to be! You have, indeed, felt as if it were some donation coming down from the upper world; as if some bright angel had suddenly appeared and said to you, "I am commissioned to assure you of the pardon of sin." Ah, reader, you have known it was no angel's voice which brought you the message; it was God's own voice speaking Himself by his Spirit to your souls. You have felt what I cannot describe, what you cannot portray in words. No one can either describe or comprehend, except by experiencing it, "the blessedness of the man whose sins are forgiven, to whom the Lord doth not impute iniquity." Imagine, if you can, the happiness of a poor criminal who, every moment expecting his immediate execution, should suddenly receive a full pardon from his offended monarch. Imagine his happiness, passing in a moment from the depth of misery to the height of joy, from the verge of despair to the full assurance of forgiveness and of liberty and of life; and you will have a faint image-oh, a very faint image-of his happiness who can say, "My sins, which are many, are all forgiven me."

Another gift is the assurance of Justification.

Justification is like a robe investing the believing soul, so that now it stands before God, not in its own filthy rags of self-righteousness, but in that pure, spotless robe, which the Saviour's works have wrought out, and which a Saviour's love has given to the believing Christian. And this is a different thing from the sense of pardon. A man is not thoroughly justified because he is forgiven. The monarch who extends a pardon, a whole and free pardon, to some transgressor, does not thereby bring that transgressor into his own palace, and make that transgressor a member of his own family. But when God forgives He also justifies, and his justification is not simply the pardoning that is past; it is not merely the assurance of forgive ness for sins which yet may be committed; it is much more, it is the taking of that forgiven sinner into His own house, into His own family; it is the making him an heir of everlasting life; it is the making him "a joint heir with Christ." Is it much to be forgiven? Oh, yes, but not enough. When I stand at the door of heaven and ask for admission there, my forgiveness will not entitle me to an entrance. Why, what is there in forgiveness which would give me any title to admission to heaven ? The effect of being forgiven is simply that God does not intend to execute judgment upon me. I stand, therefore, at best but in a negative point of view. To forgive me does not give me any merit; to forgive me does not give me any title. I must acquire a title; I must gain a right; I must have some merit to show, as the ground upon which I can claim admission to the happiness and glory of that world which I am entering. And this must come from the Saviour. It must come through the imputation to me and the reckoning to me of his righteousness; so that now I am not only for given, but by faith in Him, having his righteousness reckoned to my account, I can come and boldly claim admission into heaven. I can say I have a right to

be admitted, because it is not I that ask, but my Saviour; it is not I that claim admission, but my Saviour who claims it; it is not my voice, but my Saviour's voice that demands entrance, because the vital union that has been created in my soul through belief in Him causes me to share in his meritsthose merits which He possesses as Mediator; and to participate in his righteousness-that righteousness which He has as the Redeemer of His people.

The third gift is the Witness of the Spirit. And what is this Witness of the Spirit? Much has been said about it. Much has been written about it. Many different views have been taken of it. Some people have been afraid of believing that there is a witness of the Spirit, for fear of going to extremes, for fear of becoming enthusiasts, and that their piety should assume a mystic form. What, then, are we to understand by the "Spirit witnessing with our spirit"? Now, I believe, beloved reader, that in God's children there is a sense of adoption into his family, there is an assurance of "being born again," there is a knowledge that we are in "Christ," apart from any arguments of reason, apart from any self-examinationwhich is to be looked upon as an instinctive feeling of the new life. Take, by way of illustration, the case of a child. A child does not reason before it feels quite certain of its being the child of its parents-of its being their own child. It does not sit down to settle by argument that it is their own child. It might be done in the way of reasoning. It might be settled in that way as a reasonable decision-the relationship between that child and its parents. But you never heard of a child doing so; it never came into a child's mind to do so. That child is quite certain of the fact; it never doubted it. What is it that makes that child certain of the fact of its relationship? Is it not to be looked upon as an instinctive feeling which causes it to realize its relationship. I believe there is the same