consecrates and offers himself and his whole being, as a possession, to God. Our life is only truly Christian when its root has become the thankful, reciprocal love to our Father in heaven, who had, who has planned the redemption for our everlasting salvation.

II. If the knowledge of the love of God in Christ and the reciprocal love enkindled by it is the beginning of the Christian life, the inner seed, out of which it unfolds itself, we may also recognize its progressive development in the active love to our neighbor.

Let no one, however, suppose by this, that now, in the further development of the Christian life, love to God is to cease to be active, or to lose its dominion in the heart. Not so; but as the root lives on, although the plant has grown up out of it, and as the fountain does not cease to stream, though it has formed the brook, so too the beginning of the Christian life continues in its further progress. Yea, as plant and brook must at once cease to be if the root is dried and the fountain sealed, so Christian brotherly love ever continues to receive its life from the love to God.

The latter necessarily reveals itself in the former, and the former is the sure preserver of the latter. "Every one," says John, "that loveth him that begat, loveth him also that is begotten of him." The Father's image that he bears in himself, fills him with a deep joy and affection when he beholds it in his brethren. Now he pursues, as the highest good of his endeavor and labor, no more his own fame, his own enjoyment, his own advantage, but the common good of his brethren, the goodly thought of their spiritual and physical life; to foster this, in the wider or narrower sphere in which God had placed him, he recognizes, as his holiest calling, to which he willingly subordinates his own private interests. His activity, however painstaking, however insignificant it may appear to be, now seems to him to be sanctified, because he knows that by it he serves his brethren.

Where you miss the presence of this feeling-where you find a sluggish reluctance to be active for the good of others—when you meet the unsubdued passions of hatred, of envy, of revenge, which are eager to injure a neighbor, or when you come in contact with the cold self-seeking, which sees a brother starving and shuts his heart from him, which unshrinkingly sacrifices the neighbor's welfare, so soon as his own advantage requires it-name all the pretended piety of such an one plain hypocrisy, and all his protestations of love to God mere prattlesounding brass-tinkling cymbal. For the apostle also says in our text: "If any say, 'I love God,' and hateth his neighbor, he is a liar. For he that loveth not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen."

But against this proof of the apostle, doubts and scruples have arisen in the breasts of many thinking readers. "Shall it then be harder," they have asked themselves, "to love the invisible God than the vis

ible man?" But is the man not deformed by sin, and often in so high a degree, that his whole nature makes a most repulsive and loathsome impression upon us? How shall affection and love not feel themselves checked? For the very reason that we see him before us; because the might of sin confronts us unmistakably, in the distorted features of his countenance, in his repulsive manners and words, in his whole disgustful appearance, it will be hard for us to love him. And then, on the other side, does not our own experience teach us, that our affection for those whom we love, is wont to grow, when we do not see them for a time? When we saw them daily, associated with them daily, our mutual peculiarities and weaknesses often came into disagreeable collision with one another; we thought ourselves injured by them, now in this way, now in that. Sometimes, indeed, love and affection for them were for the moment supplanted by the emotions of provoked self-love, or by the lively feeling of displeasure. Were we, however, for a time separated from them, all these disagreements were forgotten, and a hearty longing for their society gained the mastery over us. And was this longing, so far as this earthly life is concerned, a vain one—were the dear ones torn from us by death-then their image, in our loving remembrance, purified itself from every stain; and so transfigured, we kept it in the still sanctuary of undying affection. How then can we believe that the love to visible men is easier than love to the unseen God?

How, my friends, shall we deny the truth of these remarks? We can not. Or shall we give up the attempt to justify the words of the apostle? Just as little. First think of it. This experience, that by a remarkable principle of our nature, the remote is forbearing, that it only hides the dark stains, but not the beaming features, stands not at all in contradiction with what John says in our text. For this beautiful image of the absent loved ones, which our soul keeps, is still nothing but the effect of our personal intercourse with them, the impression which, purified from some single imperfections, they have left upon us. But in relation to their disturbances of love, springing from sin, let us reflect, that the apostle does not speak of love to rough, vicious men, which, to be sure, has its special difficulties to overcome; but of the Christian brotherly love of the love to the children of God, to the true disciples of Jesus Christ, in whom he himself has gained a likeness-in whom, by this means, the original human nature, the crown of the earthly creation, the image of God, comes forth purer and clearer in its nobility and in its loveliness.

Yet, how distant still remains the ever-marred image of the inconceivable perfection and glory of the Original! How infinitely more worthy of love is God than the most excellent of his creatures! To whom could it occur to deny this? Surely to the apostle, least of all. But John by no means makes the universal assertion, that it is harder to love God than men, but will only point us to a particular advantage from the love

to the brethren, when he says: "For he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath not seen ?"

But John does not content himself with this ground, but, in order to impress upon the Christian most deeply, how essential the brotherly love is to the Christian life, he reminds them of the express command of God, that whoever loves him should also love his brother. "Thou shalt love God, thy Lord, with thy whole heart, with thy whole soul, with every power, and thy neighbor as thyself." So had God commanded; and the Son of God had declared that the second part of this command is like the first. Both are most closely connected with one another. Whoever would fulfill the one part of the royal law, can not set aside the other. Whoever is earnest in his love to God, seeks to please him, and directs himself according to his will. But it is his will and command that we should love our brethren, and not the brethren alone, but also our enemies-those men even, who are blinded by selfishness and hatred; who are sunk in sin and delusion-and not with words, nor with the tongue, but with the act and with the truth. And surely, my friends, when love to God has once broken through the iron bands of selfishness, and has made the heart familiar with the holy art of denying itself, and of forgetting itself, in loving self-surrender, then will the beautiful flowers of sympathetic joy and sorrow, as of themselves unfold, and bring forth the refreshing fruits of an active philanthropy.

So is then love to our neighbor that, in which the sincere love to God presents itself-in which the Christian life, in its wider progress, moves, as in its own element.

III. But when it is perfected, it does not come out away from love, as if it had found its goal in something else; but the perfection of the Christian life is nothing else but the perfection of love.

"Fear is not in love," says John; "but perfect love casteth out fear.” When the apostle now adds, as a reason, "For fear has pain," his opinion can not be other than that love and pain are contradictory in their nature; that with love, joy and blessedness are intimately and inseparably linked; that love is the very essence of blessedness. Then love, when it is perfected, must necessarily appear as blessedness; and without perfect love, on the other hand, no blessedness is conceivable. true, that God himself, were he without love, could But who could so much as think of this contradiction? from eternity, as certainly as he is love from eternity. For from eternity the Son is with the Father, participant of his nature-united with the Father in the closest, most blessed communion of love; as the Son himself, on the night before his death, solemnly declared, speaking to the Father: "Thou lovedst me before the foundation of the world."

And this is so not be happy. God is blessed

Now as God is blessed in his infinite love, so we, my friends, can only be blessed where our love is perfect. The deepest source of all discontent and of all trouble in our earthly life, is selfishness. This is a never

resting goad, which men, in hate and rage, thrust against each other, and makes one the tormentor of the other. This is a consuming fire within, whose greedy flame is never satisfied—a worm that incessantly gnaws at the noblest seed of life. This is an ever-burning kindler of anxious care, of painful fear. The secret anxiety and disquiet cover themselves, perhaps, under the appearance of equanimity; they drown themselves in the rushing pleasures and in the so-called enjoyment of life; but, nevertheless, they are there. Give him who is hardened in his selfishness what his heart desires, offer to him all the treasures of the world, let all earthly glory gather about him-life is to him a waste, and his existence a burden. Yea; remove that soul, poisoned by hate and envy, into paradise, let it dwell in heavenly radiance, and every disturbance, every suffering remain far from him-paradise itself would become, to him who hates, a hell, and, in the midst of angels and blessed men, he would be his own devil. "Therefore," says John, "he that loveth not his brother, abideth in death." Only he who loves is capable of true happiness of soul. O! if love were to have a perfect sway over us—if we could wholly and forever give ourselves up to the holy will of God; if his approbation were evermore to be before our eyes; if we were to live solely for the weal of our brethren-then should we have the stillest, holiest peace; then would our heart be broad and rich, and our neighbor's fortune and joy would at all times be ours, and his pains would be softer in our sympathies, because our participation would alleviate them; we should then have the holy consciousness that our communion with God is perfect, and every fear of God and of the mysterious future must vanish, and with it, every pain. For he who dwells in love, dwells in God, and God in him. Why, then, should not all earthly disquiet give place to the holy peace of heaven?

But let us confess, my brethren, such perfect love will, here on earth, never have an unchangeable home in our heart, but only sometimes come to us as a transient visitor. These are only inspired moments, when our soul is all devotion, and self-denial, and self-sacrifice; when our heart humbles itself in prayer before the God of love, that it may become wholly his; when we are ready to live for our neighbors, even if they, with coldness and enmity, turn away from us. Single beams of heavenly light are they which fall into the dusk of our earthly life, exalting, quickening, strengthening. But we are still too weak, too earthly, to hold them fast in their entire purity and clearness. There is something ever within us, that strives against them; and from without, the want of love, the injustice and the hatred of other men, ever anew awaken selfish impulses in our soul. The power of sin, though broken, is not yet annihilated. Our love is not yet perfect; and so there ever remains in our heart the remnants of selfish fear and sorrow.

Or does the apostle think differently? It almost appears as if he would require and expect from the Christian that the perfect love should mani

fest itself even within the limits of temporal life, as a permanent state and period; for he says, reprovingly, "Whoever fears is not perfect in love." And well might John so discourse, in the evening of a life so rich in love, consecrated to the service of God and of his brethren. Whatsoever obscures the purity of love, had almost wholly vanished from his heart; the image of the glory of his master which he had once beheld, and which had never after gone from his soul, the image of the glory of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, was reflected more and more purely from his holy life; the consummation lay close before him; then might his hopeful assurance grasp it, as if it were already present, just as the Apostle Paul, when he says: "I have fought the good fight; I have finished the course; I have kept the faith; henceforth is laid up for me the crown of righteousness."

But let the thought be far from us, that the apostle's word is in con flict with a truth which the consideration of the life of man preaches, no less loudly than the examination of our own hearts; but loudest of all the Christian faith itself, which knows of but a single perfect one upon earth, with the truth that the Christian life gains its true perfection,-that the love, which is its substance, appears in its full blessed might and greatness, only when the kingdom of God becomes manifest in its everlasting glory. "Therein," says John, "is love perfect in us ;"-this "is the precious fruit of true love, which unites Christians to one another, that they have joy in the day of judgment." They need not tremble before the Son of God, to whom the Father has given all judgment, but with blessed confidence they shall see him appear as Judge of the world. For their conscience gives them the witness, that, as he is the image of the Father, who is love, so they have been in this world in their most earnest endeavors,— so are they then-in that world, in a more perfect manner. "For it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that when he shall appear we shall be like him”—like him, wholly penetrated with love, as he is. Then only can we see him as he is, when we ourselves are wholly love; and, on the other hand, only when we see him as he is, can our love become perfect. Then will the last vestige of fear and pain have vanished; for perfect love has cast them out. In the most intimate communion with God and his triumphant church, the perfected ones drink, on and on, a blessed life from the stream of love. Far remote is every trouble; no discord of selfishness and hatred can here intrude; as every one is wholly love, and he finds in all others only love-all one in one love, in one blessedness.

My friends, there is something very great in the faith and hope of the Christian; but yet, higher than both stands the love. For only in love do faith and hope prove their truth, their divine origin; and they are destined finally to disappear, that only love may remain. If faith be not active through love, it is dead. If hope be any thing else than hoping love—if it have not the perfect revelation of love itself, for its main ob